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AS   A   MATTER   OF   COURSE 


As  A  Matter  of  Course 


BY 


ANNIE   PAYSON   CALL 

ALIUOR    OF    "I'OWtR    TUROUGU     KKTUSE " 

c  y  3/ 


$ 


TIOSTON 

ROBERTS     B  R  O  T  H  E  R  S 

1S9C 


Copyright,  1S94, 
By  Roberts  Bkothers. 


2IIntbcrsitp  JDrcss : 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.  S.  A. 


PREFACE. 


The  aim  of  this  book  is  to  assist  towards 
the  removal  of  nervous  irritants,  which  are  not 
only  the  cause  of  much  physical  disease,  but 
materially  interfere  with  the  best  possibilities  of 
usefulness  and  pleasure  in  everyday  life. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Introduction 9 

II.  Physical  Care i6 

III.  Amusemknts 25 

IV.  Brain  Impressions 33 

V.  The  Triviality  of  Trivialities  ...  46 

VI.  IMooos 55 

VII.  Tolerance 63 

VIII.  Sympathy 74 

IX.  Others 83 

X.  One's  Self 92 

XI.  Children loo 

XII.  Illness 107 

XIII.  Sentiment  versus  Sentimentality.     .  117 

XIV.  Problems 125 

XV.  Summary 129 


AS  A  MATTER  OF  COURSE, 


I. 

INTRODUCTION. 

TN  climbing  a  mountain,  if  we  know  the  path 
^  and  take  it  as  a  matter  of  course,  we  are 
free  to  enjoy  the  beauties  of  the  surrounding 
country.  If  in  the  same  journey  we  see  a  stone 
in  the  way  and  recognize  our  ability  to  step 
over  it,  we  do  so  at  once,  and  save  ourselves 
from  tripping  or  from  useless  waste  of  time  and 
thought  as  to  how  we  might  best  go  round  it. 

There  are  stones  upon  stones  in  every-day 
life  which  might  be  stepped  over  with  perfect 
ease,  but  which,  curiously  enough,  are  consid- 
ered from  all  sides  and  then  tripped  upon;  and 
the  result  is  a  stubbing  of  the  moral  toes,  and 
a  consequent  irritation  of  the  nervous  system. 
Or,  if  semi-occasionally  one  of  these  stones  is 
stepped  over  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  danger 


lo  Asa  Matter  of  Course. 

is  that  attention  is  immediately  called  to  the 
action  by  admiring  friends,  or  by  the  person 
himself,  in  a  way  so  to  tickle  the  nervous  system 
that  it  amounts  to  an  irritation,  and  causes  him 
to  trip  over  the  next  stone,  and  finally  tumble  on 
his  nose.  Then,  if  he  is  not  wise  enough  to 
pick  himself  up  and  walk  on  with  the  renewed 
ability  of  stepping  over  future  stones,  he  remains 
on  his  nose  far  longer  than  is  either  necessary  or 
advisable. 

These  various  stones  in  the  way  do  more 
towards  keeping  a  nervous  system  in  a  chronic 
state  of  irritation  than  is  imagined.  They  are 
what  might  perhaps  be  called  the  outside  ele- 
ments of  life.  These  once  normally  faced,  cease 
to  exist  as  impediments,  dwindle  away,  and  finally 
disappear  altogether. 

Thus  we  are  enabled  to  get  nearer  the  kernel, 
and  have  a  growing  realization  of  life  itself. 

Civilization  may  give  a  man  new  freedom,  a 
freedom  beyond  any  power  of  description  or 
conception,  except  to  those  who  achieve  it,  or  it 
may  so  bind  him  body  and  soul  that  in  moments 
when  he  recognizes  his  nervous  contractions  he 
would  willingly  sell  his  hope  of  immortality  to 
be  a  wild  horse  or  tiger  for  the  rest  of  his  days. 


hitrodiiclion.  1 1 

These  stones  in  the  way  arc  the  result  of 
a  perversion  of  civilization,  and  the  cause  of 
much  contraction  and  unnecessary  suffering. 

There  is  the  physical  stone.  If  the  health  of 
the  body  were  attended  to  as  a  matter  of  course, 
as  its  cleanliness  is  attended  to  by  those  of  us 
who  are  more  civilized,  how  much  easier  life 
might  be  !  Indeed,  the  various  trippings  on,  and 
endeavors  to  encircle,  this  physical  stone,  raise 
many  phantom  stones,  and  the  severity  of  the 
fall  is  just  as  great  when  one  trips  over  a  stone 
that  is  not  there.  Don  Quixote  was  quite  ex- 
hausted when  he  had  been  fighting  the  wind- 
mills. One  recognizes  over  and  over  the  truth 
spoken  by  the  little  girl  who,  when  reprimanded 
by  her  father  for  being  fretful,  said :  "  It  is  n't 
i;ic,  papa,  it 's  that  banana." 

There  is  also  the  over-serious  stone;  and  this, 
so  far  from  being  stepped  over  or  any  effort 
made  to  encircle  it,  is  often  raised  to  the  imduc 
dignity  of  a  throne,  and  not  rested  upon.  It 
seems  to  produce  an  inability  for  any  sort  of 
recreation,  and  a  scorn  of  the  ncccssit}'  or  the 
pleasure  of  being  amused.  Ever}'  one  will  admit 
that  recreation  is  one  swing  of  life's  pendulum; 
and  in  proportion  to  the  swing  in  that  direction 


1 2  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

will  be  the  strength  of  the  swing  in  the  other 
direction,  and  vice  versa. 

One  kind  of  stone  which  is  not  the  least 
among  the  self-made  impediments  is  the  micro- 
scopic faculty  which  most  of  us  possess  for 
increasing  small,  inoffensive  pebbles  to  good- 
sized  rocks.  A  quiet  insistence  on  seeing  these 
pebbles  in  their  natural  size  would  reduce  them 
shortly  to  a  pile  of  sand  which  might  be  easily 
smoothed  to  a  level,  and  add  to  the  comfort 
of  the  path.  Moods  are  stones  which  not  only 
may  be  stepped  over,  but  kicked  right  out  of 
the  path  with  a  good  bold  stroke.  And  the 
stones  of  intolerance  may  be  replaced  by  an 
open  sympathy,  —  an  ability  to  take  the  other's 
point  of  view, — which  will  bring  flowers  in  the 
path  instead. 

In  dealing  with  ourselves  and  others  there 
are  stones  innumerable,  if  one  chooses  to  regard 
them,  and  a  steadily  decreasing  number  as  one 
steps  over  and  ignores.  In  our  relations  with 
illness  and  poverty,  so-called,  the  ghosts  of 
stones  multiply  themselves  as  the  illness  or  the 
poverty  is  allowed  to  be  a  limit  rather  than 
a  guide.  And  there  is  nothing  that  e\'orciscs 
all  such  ghosts  more  truly  than  a  free  and  open 
intercourse  with  little  children. 


hitroihiction.  1 3 

If  we  take  this  business  of  slipping  over  our 
various  nerve-stones  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
not  as  a  matter  of  sentiment,  we  get  a  powerful 
result  just  as  surely  as  we  get  powerful  results 
in  obedience  to  any  other  practical  laws. 

In  bygone  generations  men  used  to  fight  and 
kill  one  another  for  the  most  trivial  cause.  As 
civilization  increased,  self-control  was  magnified 
into  a  virtue,  and  the  man  who  governed  him- 
self and  allowed  his  neighbor  to  escape  unslain 
was  regarded  as  a  hero.  Subsequently,  general 
slashing  was  found  to  be  incompatible  with  a 
well-ordered  community,  and  forbearance  in 
killing  or  scratching  or  any  other  unseemly 
manner  of  attacking  an  enemy  was  taken  as 
a  matter  of  course. 

Nowadays  we  do  not  know  how  often  this  old 
desire  to  kill  is  repressed,  a  brain-impression 
of  hatred  thereby  intensified,  and  a  nervous 
iiritalion  caused  which  has  its  effect  upon  the 
entire  disposition.  It  would  hardly  be  feasible 
to  return  to  the  killing  to  save  the  irritation  that 
ftjllows  repression ;  ci\'ilization  has  taken  us  too 
far  for  that.  But  civilization  does  not  neces- 
sarily mean  repression.  There  are  many  refine- 
ments   of    baibaritv    in    our    ci\ilization    which 


14  '^s  a  Matter  of  Course. 

might  be  dropped  now,  as  the  coarser  expres- 
sions of  such  states  were  dropped  by  our  ances- 
tors to  enable  them  to  reach  the  present  stage 
of  knives  and  forks  and  napkins.  And  inas- 
much as  we  are  farther  on  the  way  towards  a 
true  civilization,  our  progress  should  be  more 
rapid  than  that  of  our  barbaric  grandfathers. 
An  increasingly  accelerated  progress  has  proved 
possible  in  scientific  research  and  discovery; 
why  not,  then,  in  our  practical  dealings  with 
ourselves  and  one  another? 

Does  it  not  seem  likcl}-  that  the  various  forms 
of  nervous  irritation,  excitement,  or  disease  may 
result  as  much  from  the  repressed  savage  within 
us  as  from  the  complexity  of  civilization?  The 
remedy  is,  not  to  let  the  savage  have  his  own 
way;  with  many  of  us,  indeed,  this  would  be 
difficult,  because  of  the  generations  of  repres- 
sion behind  us.  It  is  to  cast  his  skin,  so  to 
speak,  and  rise  to  another  order  of  living. 

Certainly  repression  is  only  apparent  progress. 
No  good  physician  would  allow  it  in  bodily  dis- 
ease, and,  on  careful  observation,  the  law  seems 
to  hold  good  in  other  phases  of  life. 

There  must  be  a  practical  way  by  which 
these   stones,  these  survivals  of  barbaric  times. 


Introduction.  1 5 

may  be  stepped  over  and  made  finally  to 
disappear. 

The  first  necessity  is  to  take  the  practical 
way,  and  not  the  sentimental.  Thus  true  senti- 
ment is  found,  not  lost. 

The  second  is  to  follow  daily,  even  hourly, 
the  process  of  stepping  over  until  it  comes  to 
be  indeed  a  matter  of  course.  So,  little  by 
little,  shall  we  emerge  from  this  mass  of  ab- 
normal nervous  irritation  into  what  is  more 
truly  life  itself. 


1 6  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

II. 

PHYSICAL  CARE. 

"O  EST,  fresh  air,  exercise,  and  nourishment, 
-^^  enough  of  each  in  proportion  to  the  work 
done,  are  the  material  essentials  to  a  healthy- 
physique.  Indeed,  so  simple  is  the  whole  pro- 
cess of  physical  care,  it  would  seem  absurd  to 
write  about  it  at  all.  The  only  excuse  for  such 
writing  is  the  constant  disobedience  to  natural 
laws  which  has  resulted  from  the  useless  com- 
plexity of  our  civilization. 

There  is  a  current  of  physical  order  which,  if 
one  once  gets  into  it,  gives  an  instinct  as  to  what 
to  do  and  what  to  leave  undone,  as  true  as  the 
instinct  which  leads  a  man  to  wash  his  hands 
when  they,  need  it,  and  to  wash  them  often 
enough  so  that  they  never  remain  soiled  for  any 
length  of  time,  simply  because  that  state  is  un- 
comfortable to  their  owner.  Soap  and  water 
are  not  unpleasant  to  most  of  us  in  their  pro- 
cess of  cleansing;  we  have  to  deny  ourselves 
nothing  through  their  use.     To  keep  the  diges- 


Physical  Care.  17 

tion  in  order,  it  is  often  necessary  to  deny  our- 
selves certain  sensations  of  the  palate  which  are 
pleasant  at  the  time.  So  by  a  gradual  process 
of  not  denying  we  are  swung  out  of  the  instinct- 
ive nourishment-current,  and  life  is  compli- 
cated for  us  either  by  an  amount  of  thought 
as  to  what  we  should  or  should  not  eat,  or  by 
irritations  which  arise  from  having  eaten  the 
wrong  food.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  find  a 
mind  taken  up  for  some  hours  in  wondering 
whether  that  last  piece  of  cake  will  digest. 
We  can  easily  see  how  from  this  there  might 
be  developed  a  nervous  sensitiveness  about  eat- 
ing which  would  prevent  the  individual  from 
eating  even  the  food  that  is  nourishing.  This 
last  is  a  not  unusual  form  of  dyspepsia,  —  a  dys- 
pepsia which  keeps  itself  alive  on  the  patient's 
want  of  nourishment. 

Fortunately  the  process  of  getting  back  into 
the  true  food-current  is  not  difficult  if  one  will 
adopt  it  The  trouble  is  in  making  the  bold 
plunge.  If  anything  is  eaten  that  is  afterwards 
deemed  to  have  been  imprudent,  lot  it  disagree. 
Take  the  full  consequences  and  bear  them  like 
a  man,  with  whatever  remedies  are  found  to 
lighten  the  painful   result.     Having  made  sure 


1 8  As  a  Matter  of  Co7irse. 

through  bitter  experience  that  a  particular  food 
disagrees,  simply  do  not  take  it  again,  and 
think  nothing  about  it.  It  does  not  exist  for 
you.  A  nervous  resistance  to  any  sort  of  in- 
digestion prolongs  the  attack  and  leaves  a 
brain-impression  which  not  only  makes  the 
same  trouble  more  liable  to  recur,  but  in- 
creases the  temptation  to  eat  forbidden  fruit. 
Of  course  this  is  always  preceded  by  a  full 
persuasion  that  the  food  is  not  likely  to  dis- 
agree with  us  now  simply  because  it  did  before. 
And  to  some  extent,  this  is  true.  Food  that  will 
bring  pain  and  suffering  when  taken  by  a  tired 
stomach,  may  prove  entirely  nourishing  when 
the  stomach  is  rested  and  ready  for  it.  In  that 
case,  the  owner  of  the  stomach  has  learned  once 
for  all  never  to  give  his  digestive  apparatus 
work  to  do  when  it  is  tired.  Send  a  warm  drink 
as  a  messenger  to  say  that  food  is  coming  later, 
give  yourself  a  little  rest,  and  then  eat  your  din- 
ner. The  fundamental  laws  of  health  in  eating 
are  very  simple;  their  variations  for  individual 
needs  must  be  discovered  by  each  for  himself. 

"  But,"  it  may  be  objected,  "  why  make  all 
this  fuss,  why  take  so  much  thougb.t  about  what 
I    cat  or  what   I    do    not   eat?"     The    special 


Physical  Care.  19 

thought  is  simply  to  be  taken  at  first  to  get 
into  tiic  normal  habit,  and  as  a  means  of  for- 
getting our  digestion  just  as  we  forget  the  wash- 
ing of  our  hands  until  we  are  reminded  by  some 
discomfort;  whereupon  we  wash  them  and  for- 
get again.  Nature  will  not  allow  us  to  forget. 
When  we  are  not  obeying  her  laws,  she  is  con- 
stantly irritating  us  in  one  way  or  another.  It 
is  when  we  obey,  and  obey  as  a  matter  of 
course,  that  she  shows  herself  to  be  a  tender 
mother,  and  helps  us  to  a  real  companionship 
with   her. 

Nothing  is  more  amusing,  nothing  could  ap- 
peal more  to  Mother  Nature's  sense  of  humor, 
than  the  various  devices  for  exercise  which  give 
us  a  complicated  self-consciousness  rather  than 
a  natural  development  of  our  physical  powers. 
Certain  simple  exercises  are  most  useful,  and  if 
the  weather  is  so  inclement  that  they  cannot  be 
taken  in  the  open  air,  it  is  good  to  have  a  well- 
ventilated  hall.  Exercise  with  others,  too,  is  stim- 
ulating, and  more  invigorating  when  there  is  air 
enough  and  to  s'parc.  But  there  is  nothing  tliat 
shows  the  subjective,  self-conscious  state  of  this 
generation  more  tlian  the  subjective  form  which 
exercise  takes.     Instead  of  games  and  play  or 


20  ^s  a  Matter  of  Course. 

a  good  vigorous  walk  in  the  country,  there  are 
endless  varieties  of  physical  culture,  most  of  it 
good  and  helpful  if  taken  as  a  means  to  an  end, 
but  almost  useless  as  it  is  taken  as  an  end  in 
itself;  for  it  draws  the  attention  to  one's  self  and 
one's  own  muscles  in  a  way  to  make  the  owner 
serve  the  muscle  instead  of  the  muscle  being 
made  to  serve  the  owner.  The  more  physical 
exercise  can  be  simplified  and  made  objec- 
tive, the  more  it  serves  its  end.  To  climb  a 
high  mountain  is  admirable  exercise,  for  we 
have  the  summit  as  an  end,  and  the  work  of 
climbing  is  steadily  objective,  while  we  get  the 
delicious  effect  of  a  freer  circulation  and  all  that 
it  means.  There  might  be  similar  exercises  in 
gymnasiums,  and  there  are,  indeed,  many  exer- 
cises where  some  objective  achievement  is  the 
end,  and  the  training  of  a  muscle  follows  as  a 
matter  of  course.  There  is  the  exercise-instinct; 
we  all  have  it  the  more  perfectly  as  we  obey  it. 
If  we  have  suffered  from  a  series  of  disobe- 
diences, it  is  a  comparatively  easy  process  to 
work  back  into  obedience. 

The  fresh-air-instinct  is  abnormally  developed 
with  some  of  us,  but  only  with  some.  The  pop- 
ular fear  of  drauc^hts  is  one  cause  of  its    loss. 


Physical  Care.  2 1 

The  fear  of  a  draught  will  cause  a  contraction, 
tlie  contraction  will  interfere  with  the  circula- 
tion, and  a  cold  is  the  natural  result. 

The  effect  of  vitiated  air  is  well  known.  The 
necessity,  not  only  for  breathing  fresh  air  when 
wc  are  quiet,  but  for  exercising  in  the  open, 
grows  upon  us  as  we  sec  the  result.  To  feel 
the  need  is  to  take  the  remedy,  as  a  matter 
of  course.  — 1 

The  rest-instinct  is  most  generally  disobeyed, 
most  widely  needed,  and  obedience  to  it  would  \ 
bring  the  most  effective  results.  A  restful  state  of 
mind  and  body  prepares  one  for  the  best  effects 
from  exercise,  fresh  air,  and  nourishment.  This 
instinct  is  the  more  disobeyed  because  with  the 
need  for  rest  there  seems  to  come  an  inability 
to  take  it,  so  that  not  only  is  e\-ery  impedi- 
ment magnified,  but  imaginary  impediments 
are  erected,  and  only  a  decided  and  insistent 
use  of  the  will  in  dropping  e\-er}'thing  that 
interferes,  whether  real  or  imaginary,  will  bring 
a  whiff  of  a  breeze  from  the  true  rest  current. 
Rest  is  not  always  silence,  but  silence  is  always 
rest;  and  a  real  silence  of  the  mind  is  known 
by  ver\'  few.  I  Living  gained  that,  or  e\-en  ap- 
proached it,  we  are  taken  by  the  re.it-wind  itself, 


22  ,  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

and  it  is  strong  enough  to  bear  our  full  weight 
as  it  swings  us  along  to  renewed  life  and  new 
strength  for  work  to  come. 

The  secret  is  to  turn  to  silence  at  the  first 
hint  from  nature;  and  sleep  should  be  the  very 
essence  of  silence  itself. 

All  this  would  be  very  well  if  we  were  free  to 
take  the  right  amount  of  rest,  fresh  air,  exercise, 
and  nourishment ;  but  many  of  us  are  not.  It 
will  not  be  difficult  for  any  one  to  call  to  mind 
half  a  dozen  persons  who  impede  the  good 
which  might  result  from  the  use  of  these  four 
necessities  simply  by  complaining  that  they 
cannot  have  their  full  share  of  either.  Indeed, 
some  of  us  may  find  in  ourselves  various  stones 
of  this  sort  stopping  the  way.  To  take  what  we 
can  and  be  thankful,  not  only  enables  us  to  gain 
more  from  every  source  of  health,  but  opens  the 
way  for  us  to  see  clearly  how  to  get  more. 
This  complaint,  however,  is  less  of  an  imped- 
iment than  the  whining  and  fussing  which  come 
from  those  who  are  free  to  take  all  four  in 
abundance,  and  who  have  the  necessity  of  their 
own  especial  physical  health  so  much  at  heart 
that  there  is  room  to  think  of  little  else.  These 
people  crowd  into  the  various  schools  of  phys-. 


Physical  Care.  it^ 

ical  culture  by  the  hundred,  pervade  the  rest- 
cures,  and  are  ready  for  any  new  physioloj^ical 
fad  which  may  arise,  with  no  result  but  more 
ph)-sical  culture,  more  rest-cure,  and  more  fads. 
Nay,  there  is  sometimes  one  other  result,  — 
disease.  That  gives  them  something  tangible 
to  work  for  or  to  work  about.  But  all  their 
eating  and  breathing  and  exercising  and  rest- 
ing does  not  bring  lasting  vigorous  health, 
simply  because  they  work  at  it  as  an  end,  of 
which  self  is  the  centre  and  circumference. 

The  sooner  our  health-instinct  is  developed, 
and  then  taken  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  sooner 
can  the  body  become  a  perfect  servant,  to  be 
treated  with  true  courtes}-,  and  then  forgotten. 
I  fere  is  an  instinct  of  our  barbarous  ancestry 
which  may  be  kept  and  refined  through  all 
future  j)hases  of  ci\ilization.  This  instinct  is 
natural,  and  the  obedience  to  it  enables  us  to 
gain  more  rapitlly  in  other,  higher  instincts 
which,  if  our  ancestors  had  at  all,  were  so 
embryonic  as  not  to  have  attained  expression. 

Nourishment,  fresh  air,  exercise,  rest,  —  so  far 
as  these  are  not  taken  simply  and  in  obedience 
to  the  natural  instinct,  there  arise  physical 
stones  in  the  way,  stones  that  form  themselves 


24  -^s  a  Matter  of  Course. 

into  an  apparently  insurmountable  wall.  There 
is  a  stile  over  that  wall,  however,  if  we  will  but 
open  our  eyes  to  see  it.  This  stile,  carefully 
climbed,  will  enable  us  to  step  over  the  few 
stones  on  the  other  side,  and  follow  the  phys- 
ical path  quite  clearly. 


Amusements.  25 


III. 

AMUSEMENTS. 

'T^PIE  ability  to  be  easily  and  heartily  amused 
-*-  brings  a  wholesome  reaction  from  intense 
thought  or  hard  work  of  any  kind  which  does 
more  towards  keeping  the  nervous  system  in  a 
normal  state  than  almost  anything  else  of  an 
external  kind. 

As  a  Frenchman  very  aptly  said  :  "  This  is  all 
very  well,  all  this  study  and  care  to  relieve  one's 
nerves ;  but  would  it  not  be  much  simpler  and 
more  effective  to  go  and  amuse  one's  self?" 
The  same  Frenchman  could  not  realize  that  in 
many  countries  amusement  is  almost  a  lost  art. 
Fortunately,  it  is  not  entirely  lost ;  and  the  sooner 
it  is  regained,  the  nearer  we  shall  be  to  health 
and  happiness. 

One  of  the  chief  impediments  in  the  way  of 
hearty  amusement  is  over-seriousness.  There 
should  be  two  words  for  "  serious,"  as  there  are 
literally  two  meanings.     There  is  a  certain  intense 


26  Asa  Matter  of  Course. 

form  of  taking  the  care  and  responsibility  of 
one's  own  individual  interests,  or  the  interests 
of  others  which  are  selfishly  made  one's  own, 
which  leads  to  a  surface-seriousness  that  is  not 
only  a  chronic  irritation  of  the  nervous  system, 
but  a  constant  distress  to  those  who  come  under 
this  serious  care.  This  is  taking  life  an  grand 
serieux.  The  superficiality  of  this  attitude  is 
striking,  and  would  be  surprising  could  the 
sufferer  from  such  seriousness  once  see  himself 
(or  more  often  it  is  herself)  in  a  clear  light.  It 
is  quite  common  to  call  such  a  person  over- 
serious,  when  in  reality  he  is  not  serious  enough. 
He  or  she  is  laboring  under  a  sham  seriousness, 
as  an  actor  might  who  had  such  a  part  to  play 
and  merged  himself  in  the  character.  These 
people  are  simply  exaggerating  their  own  im- 
portance to  life,  instead  of  recognizing  life's 
importance  to  them.  An  example  of  this  is  the 
heroine  of  Mrs.  Ward's  "  Robert  Elsmcre,"  who 
refused  to  marry  because  the  family  could  not 
get  on  without  her;  and  when  finally  she  con- 
sented, the  family  lived  more  happily  and 
comfortably  than  when  she  considered  licrself 
their  leader.  If  this  woman's  seriousness,  which 
blinded  her  judgment,  had  been  real  instead  of 


Amusements.  27 

sham,  the  state  of  the  case  would  have  been 
quite  clear  to  her;  but  then,  indeed,  there  would 
have  been  no  case  at  all. 

When  seriousness  is  real,  it  is  never  intrusive 
and  can  never  be  overdone.  It  is  simply  a 
quiet,  steady  obedience  to  recognized  laws  fol- 
lowed as  a  matter  of  course,  which  must  lead  to 
a  clearer  appreciation  of  such  laws,  and  of  our 
own  freedom  in  obeying  them.  Whereas  with 
a  sham  seriousness  we  dwell  upon  the  impor- 
tance of  our  own  relation  to  the  law,  and  our 
own  responsibility  in  forcing  others  to  obey. 
With  the  real,  it  is  the  law  first,  and  then  my 
obedience.  With  the  sham,  it  is  myself  first, 
and  then  tlie  laws ;  and  often  a  strained  obedi- 
ence to  laws  of  my  own  making. 

This  sham  seriousness,  which  is  peculiarly  a 
New  I*>ngland  trait,  but  may  also  be  found  in 
many  other  parts  of  the  world,  is  often  the  per- 
version of  a  strong,  fine  nature.  It  places  many 
stones  in  the  way,  most  of  them  phantoms,  which, 
once  stepped  over  and  then  ignored,  brings  to 
light  a  nature  nobly  expansive,  and  a  source  of 
joy  to  all  who  come  in  contact  with  it.  But  so 
long  as  the  "  seriousness  "  lasts,  it  is  quite  incom- 
patible with  any  form  of  real  amusement 


28  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

For  the  very  essence  of  amusement  is  the 
child-spirit.  The  child  throws  himself  heartily 
and  spontaneously  into  the  game,  or  whatever  it 
may  be,  and  forgets  that  there  is  anything  else 
in  the  world,  for  the  time  being.  Children  have 
nothing  else  to  remember.  We  have  the  advan- 
tage of  them  there,  in  the  pleasure  of  forgetting 
and  in  the  renewed  strength  with  which  we  can 
return  to  our  w^ork  or  care,  in  consequence. 
Any  one  who  cannot  play  children's  games  with 
children,  and  with  the  same  enjoyment  that 
children  have,  does  not  know  the  spirit  of 
amusement.  For  this  same  spirit  must  be  taken 
into  all  forms  of  amusement,  especially  those 
that  are  beyond  the  childish  mind,  to  bring  the 
delicious  reaction  which  nature  is  ever  ready  to 
bestow.  This  is  almost  a  self-evident  truth ;  and 
yet  so  confirmed  is  man  in  his  sham  maturity  that 
it  is  quite  common  to  see  one  look  with  contempt, 
and  a  sense  of  superiority  which  is  ludicrous, 
upon  another  who  is  enjoying  a  child's  game 
like  a  child.  The  trouble  is  that  many  of  us 
arc  so  contracted  in  and  oppressed  by  our  own 
self-consciousness  that  open  spontaneity  is  out 
of  the  question  and  even  inconceivable.  The 
sooner  wc  shake  it  off,  the  better.     When  the 


Atmtsemenls.  29 

great  philosopher  said,  "  Except  ye  become  as 
little  children,"  he  must  have  meant  it  all  the  way 
through  in  spirit,  if  not  in  the  letter.  It  certainly 
is  the  common-sense  view,  whichever  way  we 
look  at  it,  and  proves  as  practical  as  walking 
upon  one's  feet. 

With  the  spontaneity  grows  the  ability  to  be 
amused,  and  with  that  ability  comes  new  power 
for  better  and  really  serious  work. 

To  endeavor  with  all  your  might  to  win,  and 
then  if  you  fail,  not  to  care,  relieves  a  game  of 
an  immense  amount  of  unnecessary  nervous 
strain.  A  spirit  of  rivalry  has  so  taken  hold  of 
us  and  become  such  a  large  stone  in  the  way, 
that  it  takes  wcllnigh  a  reversal  of  all  our  ideas 
to  realize  that  this  same  spirit  is  quite  compat- 
ible with  a  good  healthy  willingness  that  the 
other  man  should  win  —  if  he  can.  Not  from 
the  goody-goody  motive  of  wishing  your  neigh- 
bor to  beat,  —  no  neighbor  would  thank  you  for 
placing  with  him  in  that  spirit,  —  but  from  a 
feeling  that  you  have  gone  in  to  beat,  you  have 
fXowQ.  your  best,  as  far  as  you  could  sec,  and 
where  you  have  not,  you  have  learned  to  i\o 
better.  The  fact  of  beating  is  not  of  paramount 
importance.     Every  man  should  have  his  chance, 


30  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

and,  from  your  opponent's  point  of  view,  provided 
you  were  as  severe  on  him  as  you  knew  how  to 
be  at  the  time,  it  is  well  that  he  won.  You  will 
see  that  it  does  not  happen  again. 

Curious  it  is  that  the  very  men  or  women 
who  would  scorn  to  play  a  child's  game  in  a 
childlike  spirit,  will  show  the  best  known  form 
of  childish  fretfulness  and  sheer  naughtiness  in 
their  way  of  taking  a  game  which  is  considered 
to  be  more  on  a  level  with  the  adult  mind,  and 
so  rasp  their  nerves  and  the  nerves  of  their 
opponents  that  recreation  is  simply  out  of  the 
question. 

Whilst  one  should  certainly  have  the  ability 
to  enjoy  a  child's  game  with  a  child  and  like  a 
child,  that  not  only  does  not  exclude  the  prefer- 
ence which  many,  perhaps  most  of  us  may  have 
for  more  mature  games,  it  gives  the  power  to 
play  those  games  with  a  freedom  and  ease  which 
help  to  preserve  a  healthy  nervous  system. 

If,  however,  amusement  is  taken  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  preserving  a  normal  nervous  system, 
or  for  returning  to  health,  it  loses  its  zest  just  in 
proportion.  If,  as  is  often  the  case,  one  must 
force  one's  self  to  it  at  first,  the  love  of  the  fun  will 
gradually  come  as  one  ignores  the  first  necessity 


Amusements.  31 

of  forcing;  and  the  interest  will  come  sooner  if 
a  form  of  amusement  is  taken  quite  opposite  to 
the  daily  work,  a  form  which  will  bring  new 
faculties  and  muscles  into  action. 

There  is,  of  course,  nothing  that  results  in  a 
more  unpleasant  state  of  ciuini  than  an  excess 
of  amusement.  After  a  certain  amount  of  care- 
less enjoyment,  life  comes  to  a  deadly  stupid 
standstill,  or  the  forms  of  amusement  grow 
lower.  In  cither  case  the  elTcct  upon  the  nervous 
SN'stcm  is  worse  even  than  over-work. 

The  variety  in  sources  of  amusement  is 
endless,  and  the  ability  to  get  amusement  out  of 
almost  an}'thing  is  delightful,  as  long  as  it  is 
Well  balanced. 

/Vfter  all,  our  amusement  depends   upon  the 
wa\'  in  which  we   take   our  work,  and   our  work, 
again,  dc[)cnds  upon  the  amusement;   they  play  • 
b.u-k  and  forth  into  one  another's  hands. 

The  man  or  the  woman  who  cannot  get  the 
holiday  spirit,  who  cannot  enjoy  pure  fun  for 
the  sake  of  fun,  who  cannot  be  at  one  with  a 
liltle  child,  not  <inl\'  is  missin;;;  much  in  life  that 
is  clear  happiness,  l)ut  is  draining  his  ner\'(vj.s 
system,  and  losing  his  better  power  for  work 
accordingly. 


32  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

This  anti-amusement  stone  once  removed,  the 
path  before  us  is  entirely  new  and  refreshing. 

The  power  to  be  amused  runs  in  nations. 
But  each  individual  is  in  himself  a  nation,  and 
can  govern  himself  as  such ;  and  if  he  has  any 
desire  for  the  prosperity  of  his  own  kingdom,  let 
him  order  a  pubhc  holiday  at  regular  intervals, 
and  see  that  the  people  enjoy  it. 


Brain  Impressio7is,  33 


IV. 

BRAIN    IMPRESSIONS. 

THE  mere  idea  of  a  brain  clear  from  false 
impressions  gives  a  sense  of  freedom 
which  is  refreshing. 

In  a  comic  journal,  some  years  ago,  there  was 
a  picture  of  a  man  in  a  most  self-important 
attitude,  with  two  common  mortals  in  the 
background  gazing  at  him.  "  What  makes 
liim  stand  like  that?"  said  one.  "Because," 
answered  the  other,  "  that  is  his  own  idea  of 
himself."  The  truth  suggested  in  that  picture 
strikes  one  aghast ;  for  in  looking  about  us  wc 
see  constant  examples  of  attitudinizing  in  one's 
own  idea  of  one's  self.  There  is  sometimes  a 
feeling  of  fright  as  to  whether  I  am  not  quite 
as  abnormal  in  my  idea  of  myself  as  are  those 
about  me. 

If  one  could  only  get  the  relief  of  acknowl- 
edging ignorance  of  one's  self,  light  would  be 
welcome,  however  given.  In  seeing  the  truth 
3 


34  ■^•S"  <^  Matter  of  Course. 

of  an  unkind  criticism  one  could  forget  to 
resent  the  spirit;  and  what  an  amount  of  nerve- 
friction  might  be  saved !  Imagine  the  surprise 
of  a  man  who,  in  return  for  a  volley  of  abuse, 
should  receive  thanks  for  light  thrown  upon  a 
false  attitude.  Whatever  we  are  enabled  to  see, 
relieves  us  of  one  mistaken  brain-impression, 
which  we  can  replace  by  something  more  agree- 
able. And  if,  in  the  excitement  of  feeling,  the 
mistake  was  exaggerated,  what  is  that  to  us? 
All  we  wanted  was  to  see  it  in  quality.  As  to 
degree,  that  lessens  in  proportion  as  the  quality 
is  bettered.  Fortunately,  in  living  our  own  idea 
of  ourselves,  it  is  only  ourselves  we  deceive, 
with  possible  exceptions  in  the  case  of  friends 
who  are  so  used  to  us,  or  so  over-fond  of  us,  as 
to  lose  the  perspective. 

There  is  the  idea  of  humility, —  an  obstinate 
belief  that  we  know  we  arc  nothing  at  all,  and 
deserve  no  credit;  which,  literally  translated, 
means  we  know  we  are  everything,  and  deserve 
every  credit.  There  is  the  idea,  too,  of  immense 
dignity,  of  freedom  from  all  self-seeking  and 
from  all  vanity.  But  it  is  idle  to  attempt  to 
catalogue  these  various  forms  of  private  theatri- 
cals; they  are  constantly  to  be  seen  about  ua 


Brain  Impress io7ts.  35 

It  is  with  surprise  unbounded  that  one  hears 
another  calmly  assert  that  he  is  so-and-so  or 
so-and-so,  and  in  his  next  action,  or  next  hun- 
dred actions,  sees  that  same  assertion  entirely 
contradicted.  Daily  familiarity  with  the  mani- 
festations of  mistaken  brain-impressions  does 
not  lessen  one's  surprise  at  this  curious  personal 
contradiction ;  it  gives  one  an  increasing  desire 
to  look  to  one's  self,  and  see  how  far  these 
private  theatricals  extend  in  one's  own  case, 
and  to  throw  off  the  disguise,  as  far  as  it  is 
seen,  with  a  full  acknowledgment  that  there 
may  be  —  probably  is  —  an  abundance  more  of 
which  to  rid  one's  self  in  future.  There  are 
many  ways  in  which  true  openness  in  life,  one 
with  another,  would  be  of  immense  service; 
and  not  the  least  of  these  is  the  abilitv  gained 
to  erase  false  brain-impressions. 

The  self-condemnatory  brain-impression  is 
quite  as  pernicious  as  its  opposite.  Singularly 
enough,  it  goes  with  it.  One  often  finds  inor- 
ilinate  self-esteem  combined  with  the  most  ab- 
ject condemnation  of  self.  One  can  be  placed 
against  the  other  as  a  counter-irritant;  but  this 
only  as  a  process  of  rousing,  for  the  irritatii)n  of 
either  brings  ecjual  mi.^cr}'.     I  am  not  even  sure 


36  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

that  as  a  rousing  process  it  is  ever  really  useful. 
To  be  clear  of  a  mistaken  brain-impression,  a 
man  must  recognize  it  himself;  and  this  recogni- 
tion can  never  be  brought  about  by  an  unasked 
attempt  of  help  from  another.  It  is  often 
cleared  by  help  asked  and  given ;  and  perhaps 
more  often  by  help  which  is  quite  involuntary 
and  unconscious.  One  of  the  greatest  points  in 
friendly  diplomacy  is  to  be  open  and  absolutely 
frank  so  far  as  we  are  asked,  but  never  to  go 
beyond.  At  least,  in  the  experience  of  many, 
that  leads  more  surely  to  the  point  where  no 
diplomacy  is  needed,  which  is  certainly  the  point 
to  be  aimed  at  in  friendship.  It  is  trying  to  see 
a  friend  living  his  own  idea  of  himself,  and  to 
be  obliged  to  wait  until  he  has  discovered  that 
he  is  only  playing  a  part.  But  this  very  waiting 
may  be  of  immense  assistance  in  reducing  our 
own  moral  attitudinizing. 

How  often  do  we  hear  others  or  find  ourselves 
complaining  of  a  fault  over  and  over  again  !  "  I 
know  that  is  a  fault  of  mine,  and  has  been  for 
years.  I  wish  I  could  get  over  it."  "  I  know 
that  is  a  fault  of  mine,"  —  one  brain-impression; 
"  it  has  been  for  years,"  —  a  dozen  or  more 
brain-impressions,  according  to  the  number  of 


Brain  Impressions.  37 

years;  until  wc  have  drilled  the  impression  of 
that  fault  in,  by  emphasizing  it  over  and  over, 
to  an  extent  which  daily  increases  the  difficulty 
of  dropping  it. 

So,  if  we  have  the  habit  of  unpunctuality,  and 
emphasize  it  by  deploring  it,  it  keeps  us  always 
behind  time.  If  we  are  sharp-tongucd,  and 
dwell  with  remorse  on  something  said  in  the 
past,  it  increases  the  tendency  in  the  future. 

The  slavery  to  nerve  habit  is  a  well-known 
physiological  fact  ;  but  nerve  habit  may  be 
strengthened  negatively  as  well  as  positively. 
When  this  is  more  widely  recognized,  and  the 
negative  practice  avoided,  much  will  have  been 
done  towards  freeing  us  from  our  subservience 
to  mistaken  brain-impressions. 

Let  us  take  an  instance:  unpunctuality,  for 
example,  as  that  is  a  common  form  of  repeti- 
tion. If  we  really  want  to  rid  ourselves  of  the 
habit,  suppose  every  time  we  are  late  we  cease 
to  deplore  it ;  make  a  vivid  mental  picture  of 
ourselves  as  being  on  time  at  the  next  appoint- 
ment ;  then,  with  the  how  and  the  when  clearly 
impressed  upon  our  minds,  there  should  be  an 
absolute  refusal  to  imagine  ourselves  an\lhing 
but  early.     Surely  that  would  be  quite  as  et'tec- 


38  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

tive  as  a  constant  repetition  of  the  regret  we 
feel  at  being  late,  whether  this  is  repeated  aloud 
to  others,  or  only  in  our  own  minds.  As  we 
place  the  two  processes  side  by  side,  the  latter 
certainly  has  the  advantage,  and  might  be  tried, 
until  a  better  is  found. 

Of  course  we  must  beware  of  getting  an 
impression  of  promptness  which  has  no  ground 
in  reality.  It  is  quite  possible  for  an  individual 
to  be  habitually  and  exasperatingly  late,  with  all 
the  air  and  innocence  of  unusual  punctuality. 

It  would  strike  us  as  absurd  to  see  a  man 
painting  a  house  the  color  he  did  not  like,  and 
go  on  painting  it  the  same  color,  to  show  others 
and  himself  that  which  he  detested.  Is  it  not 
equally  absurd  for  any  of  us,  through  the  con- 
stant expression  of  regret  for  a  fault,  to  impress 
the  tendency  to  it  more  and  more  upon  the 
brain?  It  is  intensely  sad  when  the  conscious- 
ness of  evil  once  committed  has  so  impressed 
a  man  with  a  sense  of  guilt  as  to  make  him 
steadily  undervalue  himself  and  his  own  powers. 

Here  is  a  case  where  one's  own  idea  of  one's 
self  is  seventy-five  per  cent  below  par;  and  a 
gentle  and  consistent  encouragement  in  raising 
that  idea  is  most  necessary  before  par  is  reached- 


Brain  Impressions.  39 

And  par,  as  T  understand  it,  is  simple  freedom 
from  any  fixed  idea  of  one's  self,  cither  good  "' 
or  bad. 

If  fixed  impressions  of  one's  self  arc  stones 
in  the  way,  the  same  certainly  holds  good  with 
fixed  impressions  of  others.  Unpleasant  brain- 
im[)ressions  of  others  are  great  weights,  and 
greater  impediments  in  the  way  of  clearing 
our  own  brains.  Suppose  So-and-so  had  such 
a  fault  )'esterday ;  it  does  not  follow  that  he 
has  not  rid  himself  of  at  least  part  of  it  to-day. 
Why  should  we  hold  the  brain-impression 
of  his  mistake,  so  that  every  time  we  look 
at  him  we  make  it  stronger?  He  is  not  the 
gainer  thereb)',  and  we  certainly  are  the  losers. 
Repeated  brain-impressions  of  another's  faults  v- 
prevent  our  discerning  his  virtues.  We  are 
constantly  attributing  to  him  disagreeable  mo- 
tives, which  arise  soleh'  from  our  idea  of  him, 
and  of  which  he  is  quite  innocent.  Not  only 
so,  but  our  mistaken  impressions  increase  liis 
diiUculty  in  rising  to  the  best  of  himself  I-'or  any 
one  whose  teiuperament  is  in  the  least  scn-iti\e 
is  oppressed  by  wliat  he  feels  to  be  another's 
itiea  of  him,  until  he  learns  tij  c\c:\x  hinL-eli  of 
that  as  well  as  of  other  brain  impressions. 


40  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

It  is  not  uncommon  to  hear  one  go  over 
and  over  a  supposed  injury,  or  even  small 
annoyances  from  others,  with  the  reiterated 
assertion  that  he  fervently  desires  to  forget  such 
injury  or  annoyances.  This  fervent  desire  to 
forgive  and  forget  expresses  itself  by  a  repeated 
brain-impression  of  that  which  is  to  be  for- 
given ;  and  if  this  is  so  often  repeated  in  words, 
how  many  times  more  must  it  be  repeated  men- 
tally! Thus,  the  brain-impression  is  increased 
until  at  last  forgetting  seems  out  of  the  question. 
And  forgiving  is  impossible  unless  one  can  at 
the  same  time  so  entirely  forget  the  ill-feeling 
roused  as  to  place  it  beyond  recall. 

Surely,  if  we  realized  the  force  and  influence 
of  unpleasant  brain-impressions,  it  would  be  a 
simple  matter  to  relax  and  let  them  escape,  to 
be  replaced  by  others  that  are  only  pleasant 
It  cannot  be  that  we  enjoy  the  discomfort  of 
the  disagreeable  impressions. 

And  yet,  so  curiously  perverted  is  human 
nature  that  we  often  hear  a  revolting  story  told 
with  the  preface,  "  Oh,  I  can't  bear  to  think 
of  it !  "  And  the  whole  story  is  given,  with  a 
careful  attention  to  detail  which  is  quite  unneces- 
sary, even  if  there  were  any  reason  for  telling 


Brain  Impress iofis.  41 

the  story  at  all,  and  generally  concluded  with  a 
repetition  of  the  prefatory  exclamation.  How 
many  pathetic  sights  arc  told  of,  to  no  end  but 
the  repetition  of  an  unpleasant  brain-impression. 
How  many  past  experiences,  past  illnesses,  arc 
gone  over  and  over,  which  serve  the  same  worse 
than  useless  purpose,  —  that  of  repeating  and 
emphasizing  the  brain-impression. 

A  little  pain  is  made  a  big  one  by  persistent 
dwelling  upon  it ;  what  might  have  been  a  short 
pain  is  sometimes  lengthened  for  a  lifetime. 
Similarly,  an  old  pain  is  brought  back  by 
recalling  a  brain-impression. 

The  law  of  association  is  well  known.  We  all 
know  how  familiar  places  and  happenings  will 
recall  old  feelings;  we  can  realize  this  at  any 
time  by  mentally  reviving  the  association.  V>y 
dwelling  on  the  pain  we  had  yesterday  we  arc 
encouraging  it  to  return  to-morrow.  By  empha- 
sizing the  impression  of  an  annoyance  of  to-day 
we  are  making  it  possible  to  suffer  beyond 
expression  from  annoyances  to  come;  and  the 
annoyances,  the  pains,  the  disagreeable  feelings 
will  find  their  old  brain-grooves  with  remarkable 
rapidity  when  given  the  ghost  of  a  chance. 

I  have  known  more  than  one  case  where  a 


42  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

woman  kept  herself  ill  by  the  constant  repeti- 
tion, to  others  and  to  herself,  of  a  nervous 
shock.  A  woman  who  had  once  been  fright- 
ened by  burglars  refused  to  sleep  for  fear  of 
being  awakened  by  more  burglars,  thus  increas- 
ing her  impression  of  fear;  and  of  course,  if  she 
slept  at  all,  she  was  liable  at  any  time  to  wake 
with  a  nervous  start.  The  process  of  working 
herself  into  nervous  prostration  through  this 
constant,  useless  repetition  was  not  slow. 

The  fixed  impressions  of  preconceived  ideas 
in  any  direction  are  strangely  in  the  way  of  real 
freedom.     It  is  difficult  to  catch  new  harmonies 

with  old  ones   ringing  in  our  ears;  still  more 

f 
difficult   when   we    persist    in   listening   at   the 

same  time  to  disdords. 

The  experience  of  arguing  with  another  whose 
preconceived  idea  is  so  firmly  fixed  that  the 
argument  is  nothing  but  a  series  of  circles, 
might  be  funny  if  it  were  not  sad ;  and  it  often 
is  funny,  in  spite  of  the  sadness. 

Suppose  we  should  insist  upon  retaining  an 
unpleasant  brain-impression,  only  when  and  so 
long  as  it  seemed  necessary  in  order  to  bring 
a  remedy.  That  accomplished,  suppose  we 
dropped  it  on   the   instant.     Suppose,  further, 


Brain  Impressions.  43 

that  we  should  continue  this  process,  and  never 
allow  ourselves  to  repeat  a  disagreeable  brain- 
impression  aloud  or  mentally.  Imagine  the 
result.  Nature  abhors  a  vacuum;  something 
must  come  in  place  of  the  unpleasantness; 
therefore  way  is  made  for  feelings  more  com- 
fortable to  one's  self  and  to  others. 

Ikid  feelings  cause  contraction,  good  ones 
expansion.  Relax  the  muscular  contraction; 
take  a  long,  free  breath  of  fresh  air,  and  expan- 
sion follows  as  a  matter  of  course.  Drop 
the  brain-contraction,  take  a  good  inhalation 
of  whatever  pleasant  feeling  is  nearest,  and  the 
expansion  is  a  necessary  consequence. 

As  wc  expand  mentally,  disagreeable  brain- 
iniprcssions,  that  in  former  contracted  states 
wore  eclipsed  by  greater  ones,  will  be  keenly 
felt,  and  dropped  at  once,  for  the  mere  relief 
thus   obtained. 

The  healthier  the  brain,  the  more  sensitive  it 
is  to  false  impressions,  and  the  more  easily  are 
they  dropped. 

One  word  by  way  of  warning.  We  never  can 
rid  ourselves  of  an  uncomfort.ible  brain-iinprcs- 
siun  by  saying,  "  I  will  try  to  think  something 
pleasant  of  that  disagreeable  man."     The  temp- 


44  ^^  ^  Matter  of  Course. 

tation,  too,  is  very  common  to  say  to  ourselves 
clearly,  "  I  will  try  to  think  something  pleasant," 
and  then  leave  "  of  that  disagreeable  man "  a 
subtle  feeling  in  the  background.  The  feeling 
in  the  background,  however  unconscious  we  may 
be  of  it,  is  a  strong  brain-impression,  —  all  the 
stronger  because  we  fail  to  recognize  it,  —  and 
the  result  of  our  "something  pleasant"  is  an 
insidious  complacency  at  our  own  magnanimous 
disposition.  Thus  we  get  the  disagreeable 
brain-impression  of  another,  backed  up  by  our 
agreeable  brain-impression  of  ourselves,  both 
mistaken.  Unless  we  keep  a  sharp  look-out,  we 
may  here  get  into  a  snarl  from  which  extrication 
is  slow  work.  Neither  is  it  possible  to  counter- 
act an  unpleasant  brain-impression  by  something 
pleasant  but  false.  We  must  call  a  spade  a 
spade,  but  not  consider  it  a  component  part  of 
the  man  who  handles  it,  nor  yet  associate  the 
man  with  the  spade,  or  the  spade  with  the  man. 
When  we  drop  it,  so  long  as  we  drop  it  for 
what  it  is  worth,  which  is  nothing  in  the  case 
of  the  spade  in  question,  we  have  dropped  it 
entirely.  If  we  try  to  improve  our  brain-impres- 
sion by  insisting  that  a  spade  is  something 
better    and    plcasantcr,  we    are    transforming  a 


Braiji  Impressions.  45 

disagreeable  impression  to  a  mongrel  state  which 
again  brings  anything  but  a  happy  result. 

Simply  to  refuse  all  unpleasant  brain-impres- 
sions, with  no  efTort  or  desire  to  recast  them  i/' 
into  something  that  they  are  not,  seems  to  be 
the  only  clear  process  to  freedom.  Not  only 
so,  but  whatever  there  might  have  been  pleasant 
in  what  seemed  entirely  unpleasant  can  more 
truly  return  as  we  drop  the  unpleasantness  com- 
pletely. It  is  a  good  thing  that  most  of  us 
can  approach  the  freedom  of  such  a  change 
in  imagination  before  we  reach  it  in  reality. 
So  we  can  learn  more  rapidly  not  to  hamper 
ourselves  or  others  by  retaining  disagreeable 
brain-impressions  of  the  present,  or  by  recalling 
others  of  the  past. 


46  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 


V. 

THE  TRIVIALITY   OF  TRIVIALITIES. 

T  IFE  is  clearer,  happier,  and  easier  for  us 
■* — '  as  things  assume  their  true  proportions. 
I  might  better  say,  as  they  come  nearer  in 
appearance  to  their  true  proportions;  for  it 
seems  doubtful  whether  any  one  ever  reaches 
the  place  in  this  world  where  the  sense  of  pro- 
portion is  absolutely  normal.  Some  come  much 
nearer  than  others ;  and  part  of  the  interest  of 
Hving  is  the  growing  realization  of  better  pro- 
portion, and  the  relief  from  the  abnormal  state 
in  which  circumstances  seem  quite  out  of 
proportion  in  their  relation  to  one  another. 

Imagine    a   landscape-painter  who    made  his 
cows  as  large  as  the  houses,  his  blades  of  grass 
waving   above    the   tops  of  the   trees,    and   all  ^ 
things   similarly   disproportionate.      Or,  worse, , 
imagine  a  disease  of  the   retina  which  caused 
a  like  curious  change  in  the    landscape  itself, 


The  Triviality  of  Trivialities.        47 

wherein  a  mountain  appeared  to  be  a  mole-hill, 
and  a  mole-hill  a  mountain. 

It  seems  absurd  to  think  of.  And,  yet,  is  not 
the  want  of  a  true  sense  of  proportion  in  the 
circumstances  and  relations  of  life  quite  as 
extreme  with  many  of  us  "i  It  is  well  that  our 
physical  sense  remains  intact.  If  wc  lost  that 
too,  there  w'ould  seem  to  be  but  little  hope 
indeed.  Now,  almost  the  only  thing  needed 
for  a  rapid  approach  to  a  more  normal  mental 
sense  of  proportion  is  a  keener  recognition  of 
the  want.  But  this  want  must  be  found  first 
in  ourselves,  not  in  others.  There  is  the  incli- 
nation to  regard  our  own  life  as  bigger  and 
more  important  than  the  life  of  any  one  about 
us  ;  or  the  reverse  attitude  of  bewailing  its  lack 
of  importance,  which  is  quite  the  same.  In 
cither  case  our  own  iife  is  dwelt  upon  first. 
Then  there  is  the  immediate  family,  after  that 
our  own  especial  friends,  —  all  assuming  a  gigan- 
tic size  which  puts  quite  out  of  the  question  an 
occasional  bird's-eye  view  of  the  world  in  gen- 
eral. Even  objects  which  might  be  in  the 
middle  distance  of  a  less  extended  view  arc 
quite  screened  by  the  exaggerated  size  of  those 
which  seem  to  concern  us  most  immediately. 


48  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

One's  own  life  is  important ;  one's  own  family 
and  friends  are  important,  very,  when  taken  in 
their  true  proportion.  One  should  surely  be 
able  to  look  upon  one's  own  brothers  and  sisters 
as  if  they  were  the  brothers  and  sisters  of 
another,  and  to  regard  the  brothers  and  sis- 
ters of  another  as  one's  own.  Singularly,  too, 
real  appreciation  of  and  sympathy  with  one's 
own  grows  with  this  broader  sense  of  relation- 
ship. In  no  way  is  this  sense  shown  more 
clearly  than  by  a  mother  who  has  the  breadth 
and  the  strength  to  look  upon  her  own  children 
as  if  they  belonged  to  some  one  else,  and  upon 
the  children  of  others  as  if  they  belonged  to 
her.  But  the  triviality  of  magnifying  one's  own 
out  of  all  proportion  has  not  yet  been  recog- 
nized by  many.    - 

So  every  trivial  happening  in  our  own  lives 
or  the  lives  of  those  connected  with  us  is  exag- 
gerated, and  we  keep  ourselves  and  others  in  a 
chronic  state  of  contraction  accordingly. 

Think  of  the  many  trifles  which,  by  being 
magnified  and  kept  in  the  foreground,  obstruct 
the  way  to  all  possible  sight  or  appreciation  of 
things  that  really  hold  a  more  important  place. 
The   cook,   the   waitress,  various  other  annoy- 


The  Triviality  of  Trivialities.        49 

anccs  of  housckccpincj;  a  gown  tiiat  docs  not 
suit,  the  annoyances  of  travel,  whether  \vc  said 
the  rii^ht  thin^j  to  so-and-S(j,  whether  so-and-so 
hkes  us  or  docs  not  like  us,  —  indeed,  there  is 
an  immense  army  of  trivial  imps,  and  the 
breadth  of  capacit}'  for  entertaining  these  imps 
is  so  large  in  some  of  us  as  to  be  truly  en- 
couraging; for  if  the  domain  were  once  deserted 
by  the  imps,  there  remains  the  breadth,  which 
must  have  the  same  ca[)acity  for  holding  some- 
thing better.  Unfortunatel}',  a  long  occupancy 
b)'  these  miserable  little  offenders  means  evcn- 
tuall)-  the  saddest  sort  of  contraction.  What 
a  picture  for  a  new  Gullixer !  —  a  human  being 
o\crwhclmed  by  the  imps  of  trivialit}',  and 
bound  kist  to  the  ground  b)'  manifold  windings 
of  their  cobweb-sized  thread. 

This  exaggeration  of  ttiilcs  is  one  form  of 
nervous  disease.  It  would  be  exceedingly 
interesting  and  profitaljle  to  stuil\-  the  \-arioiis 
pliases  of  nervous  disease  as  exa;.; gerated  ex- 
{)ressions  t)f  perverted  character.  The}-  can  loe 
traced  directly  and  easily  in  m.ui\-  cases.  If  a 
Wv.man  fusses  about  trivialities,  sh.e  fns<cs  more 
wl'.en  she  is  tired.  The  more  fiti^^iie.  t!ie  ir.oro 
fu.^^iiig;     and    with    a     [lersi-tent     teiulenc\-     to 

4 


50  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

fatigue  and  fussing  it  does  not  take  long  to 
work  up  or  down  to  nervous  prostration.  From 
this  form  of  nervous  excitement  one  never  really 
recovers,  except  by  a  hearty  acknowledgment 
of  the  trivialities  as  trivialities,  when,  with 
growing  health,  there  is  a  growing  sense  of 
true  proportion. 

I  have  seen  a  woman  spend  more  attention, 
time,  and  nerve-power  on  emphasizing  the  fact 
that  her  hands  were  all  stained  from  the  dye  on 
her  dress  than  a  normal  woman  would  take  for 
a  good  hour's  work.  As  she  grew  better,  this 
emphasizing  of  trivialities  decreased,  but,  of 
course,  might  have  returned  with  any  over- 
fatigue, unless  it  had  been  recognized,  taken  at 
its  worth,  and  simply  dropped.  Any  one  can 
think  of  example  after  example  in  his  own 
individual  experience,  when  he  has  suffered 
unnecessary  tortures  through  the  regarding  of 
trifling  things,  either  by  himself  or  by  some 
one  near  him.  With  many,  the  first  instance 
will  probably  be  to  insist,  with  emphasis  and 
some  feeling,  that  they  are  not  trivialities. 

Trivialities  have  their  importance  wJicn  given 
their  true  proportion.  The  size  of  a  triviality 
is  often  exaggerated  as  much  by  neglect  as  by 


The  Triviality  of  Trivialities.        51 

an  undue  amount  of  attention.  When  we  do 
what  we  can  to  amend  an  annoyance,  and  then 
think  no  more  about  it  until  there  appears 
something  further  to  do,  the  saving  of  nervous 
force  is  very  great.  Yet,  so  successful  have 
these  imps  of  triviaHty  come  to  be  in  their  rule 
of  human  nature  that  the  trivialities  of  the  past 
are  oftentimes  dwelt  upon  with  as  much  earnest- 
ness as  if  they  belonged  to  the  present. 

The  past  itself  is  a  triviality,  except  in  its 
results.  Yet  what  an  immense  screen  it  is 
sometimes  to  any  clear  understanding  or  ap- 
preciation of  the  present !  How  many  of  us 
have  listened  over  and  over  to  the  same  tale 
of  past  annoyances,  until  we  wonder  how  it 
can  be  possible  that  the  constant  repetition  is 
not  recognized  by  the  narrator!  How  many  of 
us  have  been  over  and  over  in  our  minds  past 
troubles,  little  and  big,  so  that  we  have  no  right 
whatever  to  feci  impatient  when  listening  to 
such  repetitions  by  others !  Here  again  we 
have,  in  nervous  disease,  the  extreme  of  a 
common  trait  in  humanity.  With  increased 
nervous  fatigue  there  is  always  an  increase  of 
the  tendency  to  repetition.  Best  drop  it  before 
it  gets  to  the  fatigue  stage,  if  possible. 


52  As  a  Ma  Her  of  Course. 

Then  again  there  are  the  common  things  of 
life,  such  as  dressing  and  undressing,  and  the 
numberless  every-day  duties.  It  is  possible  to 
distort  them  to  perfect  monstrosities  by  the 
manner  of  dwelling  upon  them.  Taken  as  a 
matter  of  course,  they  are  the  very  triviality 
of  trivialities,  and  assume  their  place  without 
second  thought. 

When  life  seems  to  get  into  such  a  snarl 
that  we  despair  of  disentangling  it,  a  long 
journey  and  change  of  human  surroundings 
enable  us  to  take  a  distaht  view,  which  not 
uncommonly  shows  the  tangle  to  be  no  tangle 
at  all.  Although  we  cannot  always  go  upon 
a  material  journey,  we  can  change  the  mental 
perspective,  and  it  is  this  adjustment  of  the 
focus  which  brings  our  perspective  into  truer 
proportions.  Having  once  found  what  appears 
to  be  the  true  focus,  let  us  be  true  to  it.  The 
temptations  to  lose  one's  focus  are  many,  and 
sometimes  severe.  When  temporarily  thrown 
off  our  balance,  the  best  help  is  to  return  at 
once,  without  dwelling  on  the  fact  that  we  have 
lost  the  focus  longer  than  is  necessary  to  find 
it  again.  After  that,  our  focus  is  better  ad- 
justed and  the   range  steadily  expanded.     It  is 


The  Trivialiiy  of  Trivialities.        53 

impossible  for  us  to  widen  the  range  by  think- 
ing about  it;  holding  the  best  focus  we  know 
in  our  daily  experience  does  that.  Thus  the 
proportions  arrange  themselves ;  we  cannot 
arrange  the  proportions.  Or,  what  is  more 
nearly  the  truth,  the  proportions  are  in  reality 
true,  to  begin  with.  As  with  the  imaginary 
eye-disease,  which  transformed  the  relative 
si/cs  of  the  component  j)arts  of  a  landscape, 
the  fault  is  in  the  eye,  not  in  the  landscape; 
so,  when  the  circumstances  of  life  arc  quite  in 
the  wrong  proportion  to  one  another,  in  our 
own  minds,  the  trouble  is  in  the  mental  sight, 
not  in  the  circumstances. 

liiere  are  many  wa}'s  of  getting  a  better 
focus,  and  ridding  one's  self  of  tri\ial  anno)'- 
ances.  One  is,  to  be  quiet;  get  at  a  good 
mental  distance,  lie  sure  that  )'ou  ha\e  a  clear 
\-iew,  and  then  hold  it.  AhvaN'S  keep  your 
distance;  ne\"er  return  to  the  old  stand-point 
if  \ou  can  manage  to  keep  awa)'. 

We  ma}'  be  thankful  if  tri\ialities  annoy  us 
as  tri\'ia!ilies.  It  is  with  those  who  ha\e  tlie 
constant  habit  of  dwelling  on  ihcni  witluuit 
feeling  the  discomfort  that  a  return  to  treedoni 
seems  iaq^ossiljle. 


54  ^s  ^  Matter  of  Course, 

As  one  comes  to  realize,  even  in  a  slight 
degree,  the  triviality  of  trivialities,  and  then 
forget  them  entirely  in  a  better  idea  of  true 
proportion,  the  sense  of  freedom  gained  is  well 
worth  working  for.  It  certainly  brings  the 
possibility  of  a  normal  nervous  system  much 
nearer. 


Moods.  55 


VI. 

MOODS. 

T)  ELIEF  from  the  mastery  of  an  evil  mood 
-■■^  is  like  fresh  air  after  having  been  several 
hours  in  a  close  room. 

If  one  should  go  to  work  deliberately  to 
break  up  another's  nervous  system,  and  if  one 
wore  perfectly  free  in  methods  of  procedure, 
the  best  way  would  be  to  throw  upon  the  victim 
in  rapid  sequence  a  long  series  of  the  most 
extreme  moods.  The  disastrous  result  could 
be  hastened  by  insisting  that  each  mood  should 
be  resisted  as  it  manifested  itself,  for  then  there 
would  be  the  double  strain,  —  the  strain  of  the 
mood,  and  the  strain  of  resistance.  It  is  better 
to  let  a  mood  have  its  way  tlian  to  suppress  it. 
The  stor}'  of  the  man  who  suffered  from  vari- 
cose veins  and  was  cured  i^y  the  waters  of 
Lourdes,  only  to  die  a  little  later  from  an 
affection  of  the  heart  which  arose  from  the 
suppression   of   the    former   disease,    is   a    good 


56  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

..  illustration  of  the  effect  of  mood-suppression. 
In  the  case  cited,  death  followed  at  once;  but 
death  from  repeated  impressions  of  moods 
resisted  is  long  drawn  out,  and  the  suffering 
intense,  both  for  the  patient  and  for  his  friends. 

The  only  way  to  drop  a  mood  is  to  look  it 
in  the  face  and  call  it  by  its  right  name;  then 
by  persistent  ignoring,  sometimes  in  one  way, 
sometimes  in  another,  finally  drop  it  altogether. 
It  takes  a  looser  hold  next  time,  and  eventually 
slides  off  entirely.  To  be  sure,  over-fatigue,  an 
attack  of  indigestion,  or  some  unexpected  con- 
tact with  the  same  phase  in  another,  may  bring 
back  the  ghost  of  former  moods.  These  ghosts 
may  even  materialize,  unless  the  practice  of 
ignoring  is  at  once  referred  to ;  but  they  can 
ultimately  be  routed  completely. 

A  great  help  in  gaining  freedom  from  moods 
is  to  realize  clearly  their  superficicility.  Moods 
are  deadly,  desperately  serious  things  when 
taken  seriously  and  indulged  in  to  the  full 
extent  of  their  pov/er.  They  are  like  a  tiny 
spot  directly  in  front  of  the  eye.  \Vc  see  that, 
and  that  only.  It  blurs  and  shuts  out  every- 
thing else.  We  groan  and  suffer  and  are  un- 
happy and   wretched,  still   persistently  keeping 


Moods.  57 

our  eye  on  the  spot,  until  finally  we  forget  that 
there  is  anything  else  in  the  world.  In  mind 
and  body  we  are  impressed  by  that  and  that 
alone.  Thus  the  difficulty  of  moving  off  a  little 
distance  is  greatly  increased,  and  liberation  is 
impossible  until  we  do  mo\'e  awa)',  and,  by  a 
change  of  perspective,  see  the  spot  for  what  it 
really  is. 

Let  any  one  who  is  ruled  by  moods,  in  a 
moment  when  he  is  absolutely  free  from  them, 
take  a  good  look  at  all  past  moody  states,  and 
he  will  see  that  they  come  from  nothing,  go  to 
nothing,  and  are  nothing.  Indeed,  that  has 
been  and  is  often  done  by  the  moody  persi^n, 
with  at  the  same  time  an  unhai)py  realisation 
that  when  the  moods  are  on  him,  they  are  as 
real  as  they  are  unreal  when  he  is  free.-  To 
treat  a  mood  as  a  good  joke  when  }-ou  are  in 
its  clutches,  is  simply  out  of  the  (lueslion.  But 
to  sa}',  "  This  now  is  a  mood.  Come  o\\,  do  \-our 
v.'orst;  I  can  stand  it  as  long  as  }'ou  can,"  takes 
away  all  ner\e-resistancc,  until  the  thing  has 
nothing  to  clutch,  and  dissoh'cs  for  v.aut  <>f 
nourishment.  If  it  proves  too  much  fir  one  at 
times,  and  breaks  out  in  a  bad  e.\[)re.~->i*'n  of 
some  sort,  a   (juick    acknowleJ/tneiit    ih  it   \'ou 


58  As  a  Matter  of  Course, 

are  under  the  spell  of  a  bad  mood,  and  a 
further  invitation  to  come  on  if  it  wants  to, 
will  loosen  the  hold  again. 

If  the  mood  is  a  melancholy  one,  speak  as 
little  as  possible  under  its  influence ;  go  on  and 
do  whatever  there  is  to  be  done,  not  resisting 
it  in  any  way,  but  keep  busy. 

This  non-resistance  can,  perhaps,  be  better 
illustrated  by  taking,  instead  of  a  mood,  a  person 
who  teases.  It  is  well  known  that  the  more  we 
are  annoyed,  the  more  our  opponent  teases ;  and 
that  the  surest  and  quickest  way  of  freeing  our- 
selves is  not  to  be  teased.  We  can  ignore  the 
teaser  externally  with  an  internal  irritation 
which  he  sees  as  clearly  as  if  we  expressed  it. 
We  can  laugh  in  such  a  way  that  every  sound 
of  our  own  voice  proclaims  the  annoyance  we 
are  trying  to  hide.  It  is  when  we  take  his 
words  for  what  they  are  worth,  and  go  with 
him,  that  the  wind  is  taken  out  of  his  sails,  and 
he  stops  because  there  is  no  fun  in  it.  The  ex- 
perience with  a  mood  is  quite  parallel,  though 
rather  more  difficult  at  first,  for  there  is  no 
enemy  like  the  enemies  in  one's  self,  no  teasing 
like  the  teasing  from  one's  self.  It  takes  a  little 
longer,    a   little   heartier    and   more    persistent 


Moods.  59 

process  of  non-rcsistancc  to  cure  the  teasing 
from  one's  own  nature.  But  the  process  is  just 
as  certain,  and  the  freedom  greater  in  result. 

Why  is  it  not  clear  to  us  that  to  set  our  teeth, 
clench  our  hands,  or  hold  any  form  of  extreme 
tension  and  mistaken  control,  doubles,  trebles, 
quadruples  the  impression  of  the  feeling  con- 
trolled, and  increases  by  many  degrees  its 
power  for  attacking  us  another  time?  Persis- 
tent control  of  this  kind  gives  a  certain  sort  of 
strength.  It  might  be  called  sham  strength,  for 
it  takes  it  out  of  one  in  other  ways.  But  the 
control  that  comes  from  non-resistance  brings 
a  natural  strength,  which  not  only  steadily  in- 
creases, but  spreads  on  all  sides,  as  the  growth 
of  a  tree  is  even  in  its  development. 

"  If  a  man  takes  your  cloak,  give  him  your 
coat  also ;  if  one  compel  you  to  go  a  mile,  go 
with  him  twain."  *'  Love  your  enemies,  do  good 
to  them  that  hurt  you,  and  pray  for  them  that 
dcspitcfully  use  you."  Why  have  we  been  so 
long  in  realizing  the  practical,  I  might  say  the 
phs'siological,  truth  of  this  groat  philosoph)-? 
Possibly  because  in  forgi\ing  our  enemies  we 
have  been  so  impressed  with  the  idea  that  it 
was    our   enemies   we    were    fori^i\inLr.     If  we 


6o  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

realized  that  following  this  philosophy  would 
bring  us  real  freedom,  it  would  be  followed 
steadily  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  w'ith  no  more 
sense  that  we  deserved  credit  for  doing  a  good 
thing  than  a  man  might  have  in  walking  out 
of  prison  when  his  jailer  opened  the  door.  So 
it  is  with  our  enemies  the  moods. 

I  have  written  heretofore  of  bad  moods  only. 
But  there  are  moods  and  moods.  In  a  degree, 
certainly,  one  should  respect  one's  moods. 
Those  who  are  subject  to  bad  moods  are  equally 
subject  to  good  ones,  and  the  superficiality  of 
the  happier  modes  is  just  as  much  to  be  recog- 
nized as  that  of  the  wretched  ones.  In  fact, 
in  recognizing  the  shallowness  of  our  happy 
moods,  we  are  storing  ammunition  for  a  healthy 
openness  and  freedom  from  the  opposite  forms. 
With  the  full  realization  that  a  mood  is  a  mood, 
we  can  respect  it,  and  so  gradually  reach  a 
truer  evenness  of  life.  Moods  are  phases  that 
wc  are  all  subject  to  whilst  in  the  process  of 
finding  our  balance ;  the  more  sensitive  and 
finer  the  temperament,  the  more  moods.  The 
rhythm  of  moods  is  most  interesting,  and  there 
is  a  spice  about  the  change  whicli  we  need  to 
give  relish  to  these  first  steps  towards  the  art 
of  livincr. 


Moods.  6  r 

It  is  when  their  seriousness  is  cxapfgcratcd 
that  they  lose  their  power  for  good  and  make 
slaves  of  us.  The  seriousness  may  be  equally 
exaggerated  in  succumbing  to  them  and  in 
resisting  them.  In  either  case  they  are  our 
masters,  and  not  our  slaves.  They  are  steady 
consumers  of  the  nervous  system  in  their  ups 
and  downs  when  they  master  us;  and  of  course 
retain  no  jot  of  that  fascination  which  is  a  good 
part  of  their  very  shallowness,  and  brings  new 
hfe  as  we  take  them  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Tiien  we  are  swung  in  tlieir  rli}'thm,  never  once 
losing  sight  of  the  point  that  it  is  the  mood  that 
is  to  serve  us,  and  not  we  the  mood. 

As  we  gain  freedom  from  our  own  moods,  we 
are  enabled  to  respect  those  of  others  and  give 
up  any  endeavor  to  force  a  friend  out  of  his 
moods,  or  even  to  lead  him  out,  unless  he  shows 
a  desire  to  be  led.  Nor  do  we  rejoice  fully  in 
tb.e  extreme  of  his  happy  moods,  knov.'ing  the 
certain   reaction. 

Respect  for  the  moods  of  others  is  necessary 
to  a  perfect  freedom  from  our  own.  In  one 
sense  no  man  is  alone  in  the  workl ;  in  another 
sense  every  man  is  alone;  and  with  moLid-^i 
especivilly,  a   man  must  be  left  to  w.jrk  out  his 


62  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

own  salvation,  unless  he  asks  for  help.  So,  as 
he  understands  his  moods,  and  frees  himself 
from  their  mastery,  he  will  find  that  moods  are 
in  reality  one  of  Nature's  gifts,  a  sort  of  melody 
which  strengthens  the  harmony  of  life  and  gives 
it  fuller  tone. 

Freedom  from  moods  does  not  mean  the  loss 
of  them,  any  more  than  non-resistance  means 
allowing  them  to  master  you.  It  is  non-resis- 
tance, with  the  full  recognition  of  what  they  are, 
that  clears  the  way. 


Tolerance,  63 


VII. 
TOLERANCE. 

WHEN  wc  are  tolerant  as  a  matter  of 
course,  the  nervous  system  is  relieved 
of  almost  the  worst  form  of  persistent  irritation 
it  could  have. 

The  freedom  of  tolerance  can  only  be  appre- 
ciated by  those  who  have  known  the  suffering 
of  intolerance  and  gained  relief. 

A  certain  perspective  is  necessary  to  a  recog- 
nition of  the  full  absurdity  of  intolerance.  One 
of  the  greatest  absurdities  of  it  is  evident  when 
we  are  annoyed  and  caused  intense  suffering  by 
our  intolerance  of  others,  and,  as  a  consequence, 
blame  others  for  the  fatigue  or  illness  which 
follows.  However  mistaken  or  blind  other 
people  may  be  in  their  habits  or  their  ideas, 
it  is  entirely  our  fault  if  we  are  anno\-cd  by 
them.  The  slightest  blame  given  to  another  in 
such  a  case,  on  account  of  our  suffering,  is 
quite  out  of  place. 


64  Asa  Matter  of  Cotirse. 

Our  intolerance  is  often  unconscious.  It  is 
disguised  under  one  form  of  annoyance  or 
another,  but  when  looked  full  in  the  face,  it 
can  only  be  recognized  as  intolerance. 

Of  course,  the  most  severe  form  is  when  the 
belief,  the  action,  or  habit  of  another  interferes 
directly  with  our  own  selfish  aims.  That  brings 
the  double  annoyance  of  being  thwarted  and  of 
rousing  more  selfish  antagonism. 

Where  our  selfish  desires  are  directly  inter- 
fered with,  or  even  where  an  action  which  we 
know  to  be  entirely  right  is  prevented,  intoler- 
ance only  makes  matters  worse.  If  expressed, 
it  probably  rouses  bitter  feelings  in  another. 
Whether  we  express  it  openly  or  not,  it  keeps 
us  in  a  state  of  nervous  irritation  which  is  often 
most  painful  in  its  results.  Such  irritation,  if 
not  extreme  in  its  effect,  is  strong  enough  to 
keep  any  amount  of  pure  enjoyment  out  of 
life. 

There  may  be  some  one  who  rouses  our  intol- 
erant feelings,  and  who  may  have  many  good 
points  which  might  give  us  real  pleasure  and 
profit;  but  they  all  go  for  nothing  before  our 
blind,  restless  intolerance. 

It  is  often  the  case  that  this  imaginary  enemy 


Tolerance.  65 

is   found   to   be  a  friend   and   ally  in  reality,  if  •/ 
we  once  drop  the  wretched  state  of  intolerance 
long  enough  to  sec  him  clearly. 

Vet  the  promptest  answer  to  such  an  assertion 
'^'ill    probably  be,  "  That    may   be  so  in  some 
cases,  but    not    with   the   man    or  woman   who 
rouses  my  intolerance." 

It  is  a  powerful  temptation,  this  one  of 
intolerance,  and  takes  hold  of  strong  natures; 
it  frecjuently  rouses  tremendous  tempests  before 
it  can  be  recognized  and  ignored.  And  with 
the  tempest  comes  an  obstinate  refusal  to  call 
it  by  its  right  name,  and  a  resentment  towards 
others  for  rousing  in  us  what  should  not  have 
been  there  to  be  roused. 

So  long  as  a  tendency  to  anything  evil  is  in 
us,  it  is  a  good  thing  to  have  it  roused,  recog- 
nized, and  shaken  oft";  and  we  might  as  reason- 
a!)ly  blame  a  rock,  over  which  we  stumble, 
for  the  bruises  rccci\'ed,  as  blame  the  person 
\<\\o  rouses  our  intolerance  for  the  suffering 
we  endure. 

This  intolerance,   which   is   so  useless,  seems 

strange'ly    absurd    when    it    is    roii-cd     throir^h 

some    interference   wilh   our    own   plans ;    bat   it 

is    stranger    when    we    are     ram[)ant    again.^t    a 

5 


66  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

belief  which  does  not  in  any  way  interfere 
with  us. 

This  last  form  is  more  prevalent  in  antago- 
nistic religious  beliefs  than  in  anything  else. 
The  excuse  given  would  be  an  earnest  desire 
for  the  salvation  of  our  opponent.  But  who 
ever  saved  a  soul  through  an  ungracious  in- 
tolerance of  that  soul's  chosen  way  of  believ- 
ing or  living?  The  danger  of  loss  would  seem 
to  be  all  on  the  other  side. 

One's  sense  of  humor  is  touched,  in  spite  of 
one's  self,  to  hear  a  war  of  words  and  feeling 
between  two  Christians  whose  belief  is  supposed 
to  be  founded  on  the  axiom,  "  Judge  not,  that 
ye  be  not  judged." 

Without  this  intolerance,  argument  is  inter- 
esting, and  often  profitable.  With  it,  the  dis- 
putants gain  each  a  more  obstinate  belief  in 
his  own  doctrines ;  and  the  excitement  is 
steadily  destructive  to  the  best  health  of  the 
nervous  system. 

Again,  there  is  the  intolerance  felt  from 
various  little  ways  and  habits  of  others,  —  habits 
which  are  comparatively  nothing  in  themselves, 
but  which  are  monstrous  in  their  effect  upon  a 
person  who  is  intolerant  of  them. 


lolerance.  67 

One  might  almost  think  \vc  enjoyed  irritated 
nerves,  so  persistently  do  we  dwell  upon  the 
personal  peculiarities  of  others.  Indeed,  there 
is  no  better  example  of  biting  off  one's  own 
nose  than  the  habit  of  intolerance.  It  might 
more  truly  be  called  the  habit  of  irritating  one's 
own  nervous  system. 

Having  recognized  intolerance  as  intolerance, 
having  estimated  it  at  its  true  worth,  the  next 
question  is,  how  to  get  rid  of  it.  The  habit 
has,  not  infrequently,  made  such  a  strong  brain- 
impression  that,  in  spite  of  an  earnest  desire  to 
shake  it  ofT,  it  persistently  clings. 

Of  course,  the  soil  about  the  obnoxious 
growth  is  loosened  the  moment  we  recognize 
its  true  quality.  That  is  a  beginning,  and  the 
rest  is  easier  than  might  be  imagined  by  those 
who  have  not  tried  it. 

Intolerance  is  an  unwillingness  that  others 
should  live  in  their  own  way,  believe  as  they 
prefer  to,  hold  personal  habits  which  they  enjoy 
or  are  unconscious  of,  or  interfere  in  any  degree 
with  our  wa\-s,  beliefs,  or  habits. 

That  \'er}'  sense  of  luiwillingncss  cau-^es  a 
contraction  of  the  ner\'es  which  is  wasteful  and 
disaiireeable.     The   feelinc:  routes   the    conlrac- 


68  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

tion,  the  contraction  more  feeling;  and  so  the 
intolerance  is  increased  in  cause  and  in  effect. 
The  immediate  effect  of  being  willing,  on  the  con- 
trary, is,  of  course,  the  relaxation  of  such  contrac- 
tion, and  a  healthy  expansion  of  the  nerves. 

Try  the  experiment  on  some  small  pet  form 
of  intolerance.  Try  to  realize  what  it  is  to  feel 
quite  zvilling.  Say  over  and  over  to  yourself 
that  you  are  quite  willing  So-and-so  should 
make  that  curious  noise  with  his  m.outh.  Do 
not  hesitate  at  the  simplicity  of  saying  the 
words  to  yourself;  that  brings  a  much  quicker 
effect  at  first.  By  and  by  we  get  accustomed 
to  the  sensation  of  willingness,  and  can  recall 
it  with  less  repetition  of  words,  or  without 
words  at  all.  When  the  feeling  of  nervous 
annoyance  is  roused  by  the  other,  counteract 
it  on  the  instant  by  repeating  silently:  "I  am 
quite  willing  you  should  do  that,  —  do  it  again." 
The  man  or  woman,  whoever  he  or  she  may  be, 
is  quite  certain  to  oblige  you  !  There  will  be 
any  number  of  opportunities  to  be  willing,  until 
by  and  by  the  willingness  is  a  matter  of  course, 
and  it  would  not  be  surprising  if  the  habit 
passed  entirely  unnoticed,  as  far  as  you  are 
concerned. 


Tolerance.  69 

This  experiment  tried  successfully  on  small 
things  can  be  carried  to  greater.  If  steadily 
persisted  in,  a  good  fifty  per  cent  of  wasted 
nervous  force  can  be  saved  for  better  things ; 
and  this  saving  of  nervous  force  is  the  least  gain 
which  comes  from  a  thorough  riddance  of  every 
form  of  intolerance. 

"  But,"  it  will  be  objected,  "  how  can  I  say 
I  am  willing  when  I  am  not?  " 

Surely  you  can  see  no  good  from  the  irrita- 
tion of  unwillingness;  there  can  be  no  real  gain 
from  it,  and  there  is  every  reason  for  gi\'ing  it  up. 
A  clear  realization  of  the  necessity  for  willing- 
ness, both  for  our  own  comfort  and  for  that  of 
others,  helps  us  to  its  repetition  in  words.  The 
words  said  with  sincere  purpose,  help  us  to 
the  feeling,  and  so  we  come  steadily  into  clearer 
light. 

Our  very  willingness  that  a  friend  should 
go  the  wrong  way,  if  he  chooses,  gives  us 
now  power  to  help  him  towards  the  rii^ht. 
If  we  are  mo\-ed  b)'  intolerance,  that  is  self- 
ishness; v.ith  it  will  come  the  desire  to  force 
our  friend  into  the  \va}'  v/hich  we  con-ielcr 
riglit.  Such  forcing,  if  e\-en  a[)pareiit.!\-  suc- 
ccsslul,    invariabl)-  [produces   a   rLacliuu   on   llic 


yo  As  a  Matter  of  Course, 

friend's  part,  and  disappointment  and  chagrin 
on  our  own. 

The  fact  that  most  great  reformers  were  and 
are  actuated  by  the  very  spirit  of  intolerance, 
makes  that  scorning  of  the  ways  of  others  seem 
to  us  essential  as  the  root  of  all  great  reform. 
Amidst  the  necessity  for  and  strength  in  the 
reform,  the  petty  spirit  of  intolerance  intrudes 
unnoticed.  But  if  any  one  wants  to  see  it  in 
full-fledged  power,  let  him  study  the  family  of  a 
reformer  who  have  inherited  the  intolerance  of 
his  nature  without  the  work  to  which  it  was 
applied. 

This  intolerant  spirit  is  not  indispensable  to 
great  reforms;  but  it  sometimes  goes  with  them, 
and  is  made  use  of,  as  intense  selfishness  may 
often  be  used,  for  higher  ends.  The  ends  might 
have  been  accomplished  more  rapidly  and  more 
effectually  with  less  selfish  instruments.  But 
man  must  be  left  free,  and  if  he  will  not  offer 
himself  as  an  open  channel  to  his  highest  im- 
pulses, he  is  used  to  the  best  advantage  possible 
without  them. 

There  is  no  finer  type  of  a  great  reformer 
than  Jesus  Christ ;  in  his  life  there  was  no 
shadow     of    intolerance.      From   first   to    last, 


Tolerance.  7 1 

he  showed  willingness  in  spirit  and  in  action. 
In  upbraiding  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  he 
evinced  no  feeHng  of  antagonism ;  he  merely 
stated  the  facts.  The  same  firm  cahn  truth 
of  assertion,  carried  out  in  action,  characterized 
his  expulsion  of  the  money-changers  from  the 
temple.  When  he  was  arrested,  and  through- 
out his  trial  and  execution,  it  was  his  accusers 
who  showed  the  intolerance ;  they  sent  out 
with  swords  and  staves  to  take  him,  with  a 
show  of  antagonism  which  failed  to  affect  him 
in   the  slightest  degree. 

Who  cannot  see  that,  with  the  irritated  feel- 
ing of  intolerance,  we  put  ourselves  on  the 
plane  of  the  very  habit  or  action  we  are 
so  vigorously  condemning?  W^e  are  inviting 
greater  mistakes  on  our  part.  For  often  the 
rouscr  of  our  selfish  antagonism  is  quite  blind 
to  his  deficiencies,  and  unless  he  is  broader  in 
his  way  than  we  are  in  ours,  any  show  of 
intolerance  simply  blinds  him  the  more.  Intol- 
erance, through  its  indulgence,  has  come  to 
assume  a  monstrous  form.  It  interferes  with 
all  pleasure  in  life  ;  it  makes  clear,  open  inter- 
course with  others  impossible  ;  it  interferes 
with  any  form  of  use  into  which  it  is  permitted 


72  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

to  intrude.  In  its  indulgence  it  is  a  mon- 
strosity, —  in  itself  it  is  mean,  petty,  and 
absurd. 

Let  us  then  work  with  all  possible  rapidity 
to  relax  from  contractions  of  unwillingness,  and 
become  tolerant  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Whatever  is  the  plan  of  creation,  we  cannot 
improve  it  through  any  antagonistic  feeling  of 
our  own  against  creatures  or  circumstances. 
Through  a  quiet,  gentle  tolerance  we  leave  our- 
selves free  to  be  carried  by  the  laws.  Truth 
is  greater  than  we  are,  and  if  we  can  be  the 
means  of  righting  any  wrong,  it  is  by  giving 
up  the  presumption  that  we  can  carry  truth, 
and  by  standing  free  and  ready  to  let  truth 
carry  us. 

The  same  willingness  that  is  practised  in 
relation  to  persons  will  be  found  equally 
effective  in  relation  to  the  circumstances  of 
life,  from  the  losing  of  a  train  to  matters  far 
greater  and  more  important.  There  is  as  much 
intolerance  to  be  dropped  in  our  relations  to 
various  happenings  as  in  our  relations  to  per- 
sons ;  and  the  relief  to  our  nerves  is  just  as 
great,  perhaps  even  greater. 

It  seems  to  be  clear  that  heretofore  we  have 


Tolerance.  73 

not  realized  either  the  relief  or  the  strength 
of  an  entire  willingness  that  people  and  things 
should  progress  in  their  own  way.  How  can 
we  ever  gain  freedom  whilst  we  arc  entangled 
in  the  contractions  of  intolerance? 

I'reedom  and  a  healthy  nervous  system  are 
synon)'mous;  wc  cannot  have  one  without  the 
other. 


74  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 


VIII. 

SYMPATHY. 

SYMPATHY,  in  its  best  sense,  is  the  ability 
to  take  another's  point  of  view.  Not  to 
mourn  because  he  mourns ;  not  to  feel  injured 
because  he  feels  injured.  There  are  times  when 
we  cannot  agree  with  a  friend  in  the  necessity 
for  mourning  or  feeling  injured;  but  we  can 
understand  the  cause  of  his  disturbance,  and 
see  clearly  that  his  suffering  is  quite  reasonable, 
from  his  own  poijit  of  view.  One  cannot  blame 
a  man  for  being  color-blind ;  but  by  thoroughly 
understanding  and  sympathizing  with  the  fact 
that  red  vmst  be  green  as  he  sees  it,  one  can 
help  him  to  bring  his  mental  retina  to  a  more 
normal  state,  until  every  color  is  taken  at  its 
proper  value. 

This  broader  sort  of  sympathy  enables  us  to 
serve  others  much   more  truly. 

If  we  feel  at  one  with  a  man  who  is  suffering 
from  a  supposed  injury  which  may  be  entirely 


Sympathy.  75 

his  own  fault,  wc  are  doing  all  in  our  power  to 
confirm  him  in  his  mistake,  and  his  impression 
of  martyrdom  is  increased  and  protracted  in  pro- 
portion. But  if,  with  a  genuine  comprehension 
of  his  point  of  view,  however  unreal  it  may  be  in 
itself,  we  do  our  best  to  see  his  trouble  in  an 
unprejudiced  light,  that  is  sympathy  indeed;  for 
our  real  sympathy  is  with  the  man  himself, 
cleared  from  his  selfish  fog.  What  is  called 
our  sympathy  with  his  point  of  view  is  more  a 
matter  of  understanding.  The  sympathy  which 
takes  the  man  for  all  in  all,  and  includes  the 
comprehension  of  his  prejudices,  will  enable  us 
to  hold  our  tongues  with  regard  to  his  prejudiced 
view  until  he  sees  for  himself  or  comes  to  us  for 
advice. 

It  is  interesting  to  notice  how  this  sympathy 
with  another  enables  us  to  understand  and  for- 
give one  from  whom  wc  have  received  an  injury. 
His  point  of  view  taken,  his  animosity  against 
us  seems  to  follow  as  a  matter  of  course ;  then 
no  time  or  force  need  be  wasted  on  resentment. 

Again,  you  cannot  blame  a  man  for  being 
blind,  even  though  his  blindness  may  be  abso- 
liitel)-  and  entirely  selfish,  and  )-ou  the  sutTerer 
in  consequence. 


76  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

It  often  follows  that  the  endeavor  to  get  a 
clear  understanding  of  another's  view  brings 
to  notice  many  mistaken  ideas  of  our  own, 
and  thus  enables  us  to  gain  a  better  standpoint 
It  certainly  helps  us  to  enduring  patience ; 
whereas  a  positive  refusal  to  regard  the  preju- 
dices of  another  is  rasping  to  our  own  nerves, 
and  helps  to  fix  him  in  whatever  contraction 
may  have  possessed  him. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  open  sym- 
pathy is  one  of  the  better  phases  of  our  human 
intercourse  most  to  be  desired.  It  requires  a 
clear  head  and  a  warm  heart  to  understand  the 
prejudices  of  a  friend  or  an  enemy,  and  to 
sympathize  with  his  capabilities  enough  to  help 
him  to  clearer  mental  vision. 

Often,  to  be  sure,  there  are  two  points  of 
view,  both  equally  true.  But  they  generally 
converge  into  one,  and  that  one  is  more  easily 
found  through  not  disputing  our  own  with 
another's.  Through  sympathy  with  him  we  are 
enabled  to  see  the  right  on  both  sides,  and  reach 
the  central  point. 

It  is  singular  that  it  takes  us  so  long  to 
recognize  this  breadth  of  sympathy  and  practise 
it.     Its  practice  would  relieve  us  of  an  immense 


Sympathy.  7  7 

amount  of  unnecessary  nerve-strain.  But  the 
nerve-relief  is  the  mere  beginning  of  gain  to 
come.  It  steadily  opens  a  clearer  knowledge 
and  a  heartier  appreciation  of  human  nature. 
We  see  in  individuals  traits  of  character,  good 
and  bad,  that  ue  never  could  have  recognized 
\vhilst  blinded  by  our  own  personal  prejudices. 
By  becoming  alive  to  various  little  sensitive 
spots  in  others,  we  are  enabled  to  avoid  them, 
and  save  an  endless  amount  of  petty  suffering 
which  might  increase  to  suffering  that  was 
really  severe. 

One  good  illustration  of  this  want  of  s}^mpathy, 
in  a  small  way,  is  the  waiting  room  of  a  well- 
known  nerve-doctor.  The  room  is  in  such  a 
state  of  confusion,  it  is  such  a  mixture  of  colors 
and  forms,  that  it  would  be  fatiguing  even  for 
a  person  in  tolerable  health  to  stay  there  for 
an  hour.  Yet  the  doctor  keeps  his  sensiti\'e, 
nervously  excited  patients  sitting  in  this  hetero- 
geneous mass  of  discordant  objects  hour  after 
liour.  Surely  it  is  no  psychological  subtlet)'  o{ 
insight  that  gives  a  man  of  this  type  his  name 
and  fame:  it  must  be  the  feeding  and  resting 
process  al.)ne;  fjr  a  man  of  sensitive  s}'nipathy 
would    study    to    sa\-e    his    patients    !)}'    taking 


78  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

their  point  of  view,  as  well  as  to  bring  them  to 
a  better  physical  state  through  nourishment 
and  rest. 

The  ability  to  take  a  nervous  sufiferer's  point 
of  view  is  greatly  needed.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  with  that  effort  on  the  part  of 
friends  and  relatives,  many  cases  of  severe 
nervous  prostration  might  be  saved,  certainly 
much  nervous  suffering  could  be  prevented. 

A  woman  who  is  suffering  from  a  nervous 
conscience  writes  a  note  which  shows  that  she 
is  worrying  over  this  or  that  supposed  mis- 
take, or  as  to  what  your  attitude  is  towards 
her.  A  prompt,  kind,  and  direct  answer  will 
save  her  at  once  from  further  nervous  suffering 
of  that  sort.  To  keep  an  anxious  person, 
whether  he  be  sick  or  well,  watching  the  mails, 
is  a  want  of  sympathy  which  is  also  shown  in 
many  other  ways,  unimportant,  perhaps,  to  us, 
but  important  if  we  are  broad  enough  to  take 
the  other's  point  of  view. 

There  are  many  foolish  little  troubles  from 
which  men  and  women  suffer  that  come  only 
from  tired  nerves.  A  wise  patience  with  such 
anxieties  will  help  greatly  towards  removing 
their  cause.     A  wise  patience  is  not  indulgence. 


Sympathy.  79 

An  elaborate  nervous  letter  of  great  length  is 
better  answered  by  a  short  but  very  kind  note. 

The  sympathy  which  enables  us  to  understand 
the  point  of  view  of  tired  nerves  gives  us  the 
power  to  be  lovingly  brief  in  our  response  to 
them,  and  at  the  same  time  more  satisf)'ing 
than  if  we  responded  at  length. 

Most  of  us  take  human  nature  as  a  great 
whole,  and  judge  individuals  from  our  idea  in 
general.  Or,  worse,  we  judge  it  all  from  our 
own  personal  prejudices.  There  is  a  grossness 
about  this  which  we  wonder  at  not  ha\-ing  seen 
before,  when  we  compare  the  finer  sensitiveness 
which  is  surely  developed  by  the  steady  effort 
to  understand  another's  point  of  view.  We 
know  a  whole  more  perfectly  as  a  whole  if  we 
have  a  tlistinct  knowledge  of  the  component 
parts.  We  can  only  understand  human  nature 
eJi  viassc  through  a  daily  clearer  knowledge  of 
and  sympathy  with  its  indi\'iduals.  Ever\'  one 
of  us  knows  the  happiness  of  ha\-ing  at  Ica^t 
one  friend  whom  he  is  perfectly  sure  will  neith.er 
undervalue  him  nor  give  him  undeserved  [■)raise. 
and  whose  friendship  and  \\Q.\\i  he  can  count 
ufion,  no  matter  how  great  a  wrong  he  has 
done,  as  securely   as  he  ccnild    count  upon  his 


8o  yis  a  Matter  of  Course. 

loving  thought  and  attention  in  physical  illness. 
Surely  it  is  possible  for  each  of  us  to  ap- 
proach such  friendship  in  our  feeling  and  atti- 
tude towards  every  one  who  comes  in  touch 
with  us. 

It  is  comparatively  easy  to  think  of  this  open 
sympathy,  or  even  practise  it  in  big  ways ;  it 
is  in  the  little  matters  of  everyday  life  that  the 
difficulty  arises.  Of  course  the  big  ways  count 
for  less  if  they  come  through  a  brain  clogged 
with  little  prejudices,  although  to  some  extent 
one  must  help  the  other. 

It  cannot  be  that  a  man  has  a  real  open 
sympathy  who  limits  it  to  his  own  family  and 
friends ;  indeed,  the  very  limit  would  make  the 
open  sympathy  impossible.  One  is  just  as  far 
from  a  clear  comprehension  of  human  nature 
when  he  limits  himself  by  his  prejudices  for  his 
immediate  relatives  as  when  he  makes  himself 
alone  the  boundary. 

Once  having  gained  even  the  beginning  of 
this  broader  sympathy  with  others,  there  follows 
the  pleasure  of  freedom  from  antagonisms, 
keener  delight  in  understanding  others,  individ- 
ally  and  collectively,  and  greater  ability  to  serve 
others;    and    all   these    must   give    an    impetus 


Synipalhy.  8 1 

which  takes  us  steadily  on  to  greater  freedom, 
to  clearer  understanding,  and  to  more  power 
to  serve  and  to  be  served. 

Others  have  many  experiences  which  we 
have  never  even  touched  upon.  In  that  case, 
our  ability  to  understand  is  necessarily  limited. 
The  only  thing  to  do  is  to  acknowledge  that 
we  cannot  see  the  point  of  view,  that  we  have 
no  experience  to  start  from,  and  to  wait  with  an 
open  mind  until  we  are  able  to  understand. 

Curiously  enough,  it  is  precisely  these  persons 
of  limited  exi)erience  who  are  most  prone  to 
prejudice.  I  have  heard  a  man  assert  with 
emphasis  that  it  was  every  one's  duty  to  be 
happy,  who  had  ap{)arently  not  a  single  thing 
in  life  to  interfere  with  his  own  happiness.  The 
duty  may  be  clear  enough,  but  he  certainly 
was  not  in  a  position  to  recognize  its  difficult)'. 
AiilI  just  in  proportion  with  his  inabi!it\'  to 
ta'ice  another's  point  of  view  in  such  difficult}' 
tiid  he  miss  his  power  to  lead  others  to  Uus 
agreeable  duty. 

There  are,  of  course,  innumerable  things,  litilc 
and  big,  which  we  shall  be  enabled  to  ;.;i\e  to 
others  and  to  receive  from  others  as  the  true 
sympathy   grows. 


82  j^s  a  Matter  of  Course. 

The  common-sense  of  it  all  appeals  to  us 
forcibly. 

Who  wants  to  carry  about  a  mass  of  personal 
prejudices  when  he  can  replace  them  by  the 
warm,  healthy  feeling  of  sympathetic  friendship? 
Who  wants  his  nerves  to  be  steadily  irritated 
by  various  forms  of  intolerance  when,  by  un- 
derstanding the  other's  point  of  view,  he  can 
replace  these  by  better  forms  of  patience? 

This  lower  relief  is  little  compared  with  the 
higher  power  gained,  but  it  is  the  first  step  up, 
and  the  steps  beyond  go  ever  upward.  Human 
nature  is  worth  knowing  and  worth  loving,  and 
it  can  never  be  known  or  loved  without  open 
sympathy. 

Why,  we  ourselves  are  human  nature ! 

Many  of  us  would  be  glad  to  give  sympathy 
to  others,  especially  in  little  ways,  but  we  do 
not  know  how  to  go  to  work  about  it;  we  seem 
always  to  be  doing  the  wrong  thing,  when  our 
desire  is  to  do  the  right.  This  comes,  of  course, 
from  the  same  inability  to  take  the  other's  point 
of  view;  and  the  ability  is  gained  as  we  are  quiet 
and  watch  for  it. 

Practice,  here  as  in  everything  else,  is  what 
helps.    And  the  object  is  well  worth  working  for. 


Others.  ^i 


IX. 

OTHERS. 

TTOW  to  live  at  peace  with  others  is  a  prob- 
^^  lem  which,  if  practically  solved,  would  re- 
lieve the  nervous  system  of  a  great  weight,  and 
give  to  living  a  lightness  and  ease  that  might  for 
a  time  seem  weirdly  unnatural.  It  would  cer- 
tainly decrease  the  income  of  the  nerve-special- 
ists to  the  extent  of  depriving  those  gentlemen 
of  man)'  luxuries  they  now  enjoy. 

Peace  di")es  not  mean  an  outside  civility  with 
an  inside  dislike  or  annoyance.  In  that  case, 
the  repressed  antagonism  not  only  increases  the 
brain-impression  and  wears  upon  the  nervous 
svstem,  but  it  is  sure  to  manifest  itself  some 
time,  in  one  form  or  another;  and  the  longer  it 
is  repressed,  the  worse  will  be  the  effect.  It  may 
be  a  volcanic  eruption  that  is  produced  after 
long  repression,  wliich  simmers  down  to  a 
chronic  interior  grumble;  or  it  may  be  that 
the  repression   has  caused  sucli  steadily  incrcas- 


84  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

ing  contraction  that  an  eruption  is  impossible. 
In  this  case,  life  grows  heavier  and  heavier,  bur- 
dened with  the  shackles  of  one's  own  dislikes. 

If  we  can  only  recognize  two  truths  in  our  re- 
lations with  others,  and  let  these  truths  become 
to  us  a  matter  of  course,  the  worst  difficulties 
are  removed.  Indeed,  with  these  two  simple 
bits  of  rationality  well  in  hand,  we  may  safely 
expect  to  walk  amicably  side  by  side  with  our 
dearest  foe. 

The  first  is,  that  dislike,  nine  times  out  of  ten, 
is  simply  a  "  cutaneous  disorder."  That  is,  it  is 
merely  an  irritation  excited  by  the  friction  of 
one  nervous  system  upon  another.  The  tiny 
tempests  in  the  tiny  teapots  which  are  caused 
by  this  nervous  friction,  the  great  weight  at- 
tached to  the  most  trivial  matters  of  dispute, 
would  touch  one's  sense  of  humor  keenly  if  it 
were  not  that  in  so  many  cases  these  tiny  tem- 
pests develop  into  real  hurricanes.  Take,  for 
example,  two  dear  and  intimate  friends  who 
have  lived  happily  together  for  years.  Neither 
has  a  disposition  which  is  perfect;  but  that  fact 
has  never  interfered  with  their  friendship.  Both 
get  ovcr-tircd.  Words  are  spoken  which  sound 
intensely  disagreeable,  even  cruel.     They  really 


Others,  85 

express  nothing  in  the  world  but  tired  nerves. 
They  are  received  and  misinterpreted  by  tired 
nerves  on  the  other  side.  So  these  two  sets  of 
nerves  act  and  react  upon  one  another,  and 
from  nothing  at  all  is  evolved  an  ill-feeling 
which,  if  allowed  to  grow,  separates  the  friends. 
Each  is  fully  persuaded  that  his  cutaneous 
trouble  has  profound  depth.  By  a  persistent 
refusal  of  all  healing  salves  it  sometimes  sinks 
in  until  the  disease  becomes  really  deep  seated. 
All  this  is  so  unnecessary.  Through  the  same 
mistake  many  of  us  carry  minor  dislikes  which, 
on  account  of  their  number  and  their  very  pet- 
tiness, are  wearing  upon  the  nerves,  and  keep 
us  from  our  best  in  whatever  direction  we  may 
be  working. 

The  remedy  for  all  these  seems  very  clear 
when  once  we  find  it.  Recognize  the  shallow- 
ness of  the  disorder,  acknowledge  that  it  is  a 
more  matter  of  nerves,  and  avoid  the  friction. 
Keep  your  distance.  It  is  perfectly  possible 
and  very  comfortable  to  keep  }-our  distance 
from  the  irritating  peculiarities  of  another, 
while  ha\'ing  daily  and  familiar  rclati'jns  with 
him  or  her.  The  difficulty  is  in  getting  to  a 
distance  when  we  have  allowed  ourselves  to  be 


86  Asa  Matter  of  Course, 

over-near ;  but  that,  too,  can  be  accomplished 
with  patience.  And  by  keeping  a  nervous  dis- 
tance, so  to  speak,  we  are  not  only  relieved 
from  irritation,  but  we  find  a  much  more  de- 
lightful friendship ;  we  see  and  enjoy  the  quali- 
ties in  another  which  the  petty  irritations  had 
entirely  obscured  from  our  view.  If  we  do  not 
allow  ourselves  to  be  touched  by  the  personal 
peculiarities,  we  get  nearer  the  individual 
himself. 

To  give  a  simple  example  which  would  per- 
haps seem  absurd  if  it  had  not  been  proved 
true  so  many  times :  A  man  was  so  annoyed  by 
his  friend's  state  of  nervous  excitability  that  in 
taking  a  regular  morning  walk  with  him,  which 
he  might  have  enjoyed  heartily,  he  always 
returned  fagged  out.  He  tried  whilst  walking 
beside  his  friend  to  put  himself  iji  imagination 
on  the  other  side  of  the  street.  The  nervous 
irritation  lessened,  and  finally  ceased;  the  walk 
was  delightful,  and  the  friend  —  never  suspected  ! 

A  Japanese  crowd  is  so  well-bred  that  no  one 
person  touches  another;  one  need  never  jostle, 
but,  with  an  occasional  "  I  beg  your  pardon," 
can  circulate  with  perfect  ease.  In  such  a 
crowd  there  can  be  no  irritation. 


Others.  87 

There  is  a  certain  good-breeding  which  leads 
us  to  avoid  friction  with  another's  nervous  sys- 
tem. It  must,  however,  be  an  avoidance  inside 
as  well  as  outside.  The  subterfuge  of  holding 
one's  tongue  never  works  in  the  end.  There 
is  a  subtle  communication  from  one  nervous 
system  to  another  which  is  more  insinuating 
than  any  verbal  intercourse.  Those  nearest  us, 
and  whom  we  really  love  best,  are  often  the 
very  persons  by  whom  we  are  most  annoyed. 
As  we  learn  to  keep  a  courteous  distance  from 
their  personal  peculiarities  our  love  grows 
stronger  and  more  real ;  and  an  open  frankness 
in  our  relation  is  more  nearly  possible.  Strangely 
enough,  too,  the  personal  peculiarities  some- 
times disappear.  It  is  possible,  and  quite  as 
necessary,  to  treat  one's  own  ncr\-ous  system 
with  this  distant  courtesy. 

This  brings  us  to  the  second  simple  truth. 
In  nine  cases  out  of  ten  the  cause  of  this  nerv- 
ous irritation  is  in  ourselves.  If  a  man  loses 
Ills  temper  and  rouses  us  to  a  return  attack, 
how  can  we  blame  him?  Are  we  not  quite  as 
bad  in  hitting  back?  To  be  sure,  he  began  it. 
lUit  did  he?  How  do  wc  know  wliat  roused 
him?      Then,  too,   he  might  have  [)ourcd    vol- 


88  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

leys  of  abuse  upon  us,  and  not  provoked  an 
angry  retort,  if  the  temper  had  not  been  latent 
within  US;  to  begin  with.  So  it  is  with  minor 
matters.  In  direct  proportion  to  our  freedom 
from  others  is  our  power  for  appreciating  their 
good  points;  just  in  proportion  to  our  slavery 
to  their  tricks  and  their  habits  are  we  blinded 
to  their  good  points  and  open  to  increased 
irritation  from  their  bad  ones.  It  is  curious 
that  it  should  work  that  way,  but  it  does.  If 
there  is  nothing  in  us  to  be  roused,  we  are  all 
free ;  if  we  are  not  free,  it  is  because  there  is 
something  in  us  akin  to  that  which  rouses  us. 
This  is  hard  to  acknowledge.  But  it  puts  our 
attitude  to  others  on  a  good  clean  basis,  and 
brings  us  into  reality  and  out  of  private  theatri- 
cals ;  not  to  mention  a  clearing  of  the  nervous 
system  which  gives  us  new  power. 

There  is  one  trouble  in  dealing  with  peo- 
ple which  does  not  affect  all  of  us,  but  which 
causes  enough  pain  and  suffering  to  those  who 
are  under  its  influence  to  make  up  for  the  im- 
munity of  the  rest.  That  is,  the  strong  feeling 
that  many  of  us  have  that  it  is  our  duty  to 
reform  those  about  us  whose  life  and  ways  are 
not  according  to   our  ideas   of  right. 


Others.  89 

No  one  ever  forced  another  to  reform,  against 
that  other's  will.  It  may  have  appeared  so ;  but 
there  is  sure  to  be  a  reaction  sooner  or  later. 
The  number  of  nervous  systems,  however,  that 
have  been  overwrought  by  this  effort  to  turn 
others  to  better  ways,  is  sad  indeed.  And  in 
many  instances  the  owners  of  these  nervous 
systems  will  pose  to  themselves  as  martyrs ; 
and  they  are  quite  sincere  in  such  posing. 
They  are  living  their  own  impressions  of  them- 
selves, and  wearing  themselves  out  in  conse- 
quence. If  they  really  wanted  right  for  the 
sake  of  right,  they  would  do  all  in  their  power 
without  intruding,  would  recognize  the  other 
as  a  free  agent,  and  wait.  But  they  want  right 
because  it  is  their  way;  consequently  they  are 
crushed  by  useless  anxiety,  and  suffer  super- 
fluously. This  is  true  of  those  who  feel  them- 
selves under  the  necessity  of  reforming  all  who 
come  in  touch  with  them.  It  is  more  sadly 
true  of  those  whose  near  friends  seem  steadily 
to  be  working  out  their  own  destruction.  To 
stand  aside  and  be  patient  in  this  last  case 
rccjuircs  strength  indeed.  But  such  patience 
clears  one's  mind  to  sec,  and  gives  power  to 
act  when  action  can  prove  effccti\'e.     Indeed,  as 


90  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

the  ability  to  leave  others  free  grows  in  us,  our 
power  really  to  serve  increases. 

The  relief  to  the  nervous  system  of  dropping 
mistaken  responsibility  cannot  be  computed. 
For  it  is  by  means  of  the  nervous  system -that 
we  deal  with  others ;  it  is  the  medium  of  our 
expression  and  of  our  impression.  And  as  it 
is  cleared  of  its  false  contractions,  does  it  not 
seem  probable  that  we  might  be  opened  to  an 
exquisite  delight  in  companionship  that  we 
never  knew  before,  and  that  our  appreciation 
of  human  nature  would  increase  indefinitely? 

Suppose  when  we  find  another  whose  ways 
are  quite  different  from  ours,  we  immediately 
contract,  and  draw  away  with  the  feeling  that 
there  is  nothing  in  him  for  us.  Or  suppose, 
instead,  that  we  look  into  his  ways  with  real 
interest  in  having  found  a  new  phase  of  human 
nature.  Which  would  be  the  more  broadening 
process  on  the  whole,  or  the  more  delightful? 
Frequently  the  contraction  takes  more  time  and 
attention  than  would  an  effort  to  understand  the 
strange  ways.  We  are  almost  always  sure  to  find 
something  in  others  to  which  we  can  respond, 
and  which  awakens  a  new  power  in  us,  if  onl}'  a 
new  power  of  s}'mpathy. 


Others.  9 1 

To  sum  it  all  up,  the  best  way  to  deal  with 
others  seems  to  be  to  avoid  nervous  friction  of 
any  sort,  inside  or  out;  to  harbor  no  ill-will 
towards  another  for  selfishness  roused  in  one's 
self;  to  be  urged  by  no  presumptive  sense  of 
responsibility;  and  to  remember  that  we  are  all 
in  the  same  world  and  under  the  same  laws.  A 
loving  sympathy  with  human  nature  in  general, 
leads  us  first  to  obey  the  laws  ourselves,  and 
gives  us  a  fellow-feeling  with  individuals  which 
means  new  strength  on  both  sides. 

To  take  this  as  a  matter  of  course  does  not 
seem  impossible.  It  is  simply  casting  the  skin 
of  the  savage  and  rising  to  another  plane,  where 
there  will  doubtless  be  new  problems  better 
worth  attention. 


92  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 


X. 

ONE'S  SELF. 

TO  be  truly  at  peace  with  one's  self  means 
rest  indeed. 
There  is  a  quiet  complacency,  though,  which 
passes  for  peace,  and  is  like  the  remarkably 
clear  red-and-vvhite  complexion  which  indicates 
disease.  It  will  be  noticed  that  the  sufferers 
from  this  complacent  spirit  of  so-called  peace 
shrink  from  openness  of  any  sort,  from  others 
or  to  others.  They  will  put  a  disagreeable  feel- 
ing out  of  sight  with  a  rapidity  which  would 
seem  to  come  from  sheer  fright  lest  they  should 
see  and  acknowledge  themselves  in  their  true 
guise.  Or  they  will  acknowledge  it  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  with  a  pleasure  in  their  own 
humility  which  increases  the  complacency  in 
proportion.  This  peace  is  not  to  be  desired. 
With  those  who  enjoy  it,  a  true  knowledge  of 
or  friendship  with  others  is  as  much  out  of  the 


Ones  Self.  93 

question  as  a  knowledge  of  themselves.  And 
when  it  is  broken  or  interfered  with  in  any  way, 
the  pain  is  as  intense  and  real  as  the  peace  was 
false. 

The  first  step  towards  amicable  relations  with 
ourselves  is  to  acknowledge  that  wc  are  living 
with  a  stranger.  Then  it  sometimes  happens 
that  through  being  annoyed  by  some  one  else 
we  are  enabled  to  recognize  similar  disagreeable 
tendencies  in  ourselves  of  which  we  were  totally 
ignorant  before. 

As  honest  dealing  with  others  always  pays 
best  in  the  end,  so  it  is  in  all  relations  with  one's 
self.  There  are  many  times  when  to  be  quite 
open  with  a  friend  we  must  wait  to  be  asked. 
With  ourselves  no  such  courtesy  is  needed. 
We  can  speak  out  and  done  with  it,  and  the 
franker  we  are,  the  sooner  we  are  free.  For, 
unlike  other  companions,  we  can  enjoy  our- 
selves best  when  we  are  conspicuous  only  by 
our  own  absence  ! 

It  is  this  constant  persistence  in  clinging  to 
ourselves  that  is  most  in  the  way  ;  it  increases 
that  crown  of  nervous  troubles,  self-conscious- 
ness, and  makes  it  quite  impossible  tliat  we 
should    ever    really  know  oursehes.      If  b}'   all 


94  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

this,  we  are  not  ineffable  bores  to  ourselves, 
we  certainly  become  so  to  other  people. 

It  is  surprising,  when  once  we  come  to  recog- 
nize it,  how  we  are  in  an  almost  chronic  state  of 
posing  to  ourselves.  Fortunately,  a  clear  recog- 
nition of  the  fact  is  most  effectual  in  stopping 
the  poses.  But  they  must  be  recognized,  pose 
by  pose,  individually  and  separately  stopped, 
and  then  ignored,  if  we  want  to  free  ourselves 
from  ourselves  entirely. 

The  interior  posing-habit  makes  one  a  slave 
to  brain-impressions  which  puts  all  freedom 
out  of  the  question.  To  cease  from  such  pos- 
ing opens  one  of  the  most  interesting  gates  to 
natural  life.  We  wonder  how  we  could  have 
obscured  the  outside  view  for  so  long. 

To  find  that  we  cannot,  or  do  not,  let  our- 
selves alone  for  an  hour  in  the  day  seems  the 
more  surprising  when  we  remember  that  there 
is  so  much  to  enjoy  outside.  Egotism  is  im- 
mensely magnified  in  nervous  disorders;  but 
that  it  is  the  positive  cause  of  much  nervous 
trouble  has  not  been  generally  admitted. 

Let  any  one  of  us  take  a  good  look  at  the 
amount  of  attention  given  by  ourselves  to  our- 
selves.    Then    acknowledge,    without   flinching. 


Ones  Self.  95 

what  amount  of  that  attention  is  unnecessary; 
and  it  will  clear  the  air  delightfully,  for  a  mo- 
ment at  any  rate. 

The  tendency  to  refer  everything,  in  some 
way  or  another,  to  one's  self;  the  touchiness 
and  suspicion  aroused  by  nothing  but  petty 
jealousy  as  to  one's  own  place ;  the  imagined 
slights  from  others ;  the  want  of  consideration 
given  us,  —  all  these  and  many  more  senseless 
irritations  are  in  this  over-attention  to  self.  The 
worries  about  our  own  moral  state  take  up  so 
great  a  place  with  many  of  us  as  to  leave 
no  room  for  any  other  thought.  Indeed,  it  is 
not  uncommon  to  see  a  woman  worr\'ing  so 
over  her  faults  that  she  has  no  time  to  correct 
them.  Self-condemnation  is  as  great  a  vanity 
as  its  opposite.  Either  in  one  way  or  another 
there  is  the  steady  temptation  to  attend  to 
one's  self,  and  along  with  it  an  irritation  of 
the  nerves  which  keeps  us  from  any  sense  of 
real  freedom. 

With  most  of  us  there  is  no  great  depth  to  the 
self-disease  if  it  is  only  stopped  in  time.  \\"hen 
once  we  are  well  started  in  the  wholesome  prac- 
tice of  getting  rid  of  ourselves,  the  pr-^cess  is 
rapid.       A    thorough    freedom    from    self  once 


96  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

gained,  we  find  ourselves  quite  companionable, 
which,  though  paradoxical,  is  without  doubt  a 
truth. 
/  "  That  freedom  of  the  soul,"  writes  Fenelon, 
^  "  which  looks  straight  onward  in  its  path,  losing 
no  time  to  reason  upon  its  steps,  to  study  them, 
or  to  dwell  upon  those  already  taken,  is  true 
simplicity."  We  recognize  a  mistake,  correct  it, 
go  on  and  forget.  If  it  appears  again,  correct 
it  again.  Irritation  at  the  second  or  at  any 
number  of  reappearances  only  increases  the 
brain-impression  of  the  mistake,  and  makes 
the  tendency  to  future  error  greater. 

If  opportunity  arises  to  do  a  good  action, 
take  advantage  of  it,  and  silently  decline  the 
disadvantage  of  having  your  attention  riveted 
to  it  by  the  praise  of  others. 

A  man  who  is  constantly  analyzing  his  phys- 
ical state  is  called  a  hypochondriac.  What 
shall  we  call  the  man  who  is  constantly  ana- 
lyzing his  moral  state?  As  the  hypochon- 
driac loses  all  sense  of  health  in  holding  the 
impression  of  disease,  so  the  other  gradually 
loses  the  sense  of  wholesome  relation  to  himself 
and  to  others. 

If  a  man  obeyed  the  laws  of  health  as  a  mat- 


Ones  Self.  97 

ter  of  course,  and  turned  back  every  time  Na- 
ture convicted  him  of  disobedience,  he  would 
never  feel  the  need  of  self-analysis  so  far  as  his 
physical  state  was  concerned.  Just  so  far  as 
a  man  obeys  higher  laws  as  a  matter  of  course,  / 
and  uses  every  mistake  to  enable  him  to  know 
the  laws  better,  is  morbid  introspection  out 
of  the  question  with  him, 

"  Man,  know  thyself!  "  but,  being  sure  of  the 
desire  to  know  thyself,  do  not  be  impatient 
at  slow  progress;  pay  little  attention  to  the 
process,  and  forget  thyself,  except  when  remem- 
bering is  necessary  to  a  better  forgetting. 

To  live  at  real  peace  with  ourselves,  we  must 
surely  let  every  little  e\il  imp  of  selfishness 
show  himself,  and  not  have  any  skulking  around 
corners.  Recognize  him  for  his  full  worthless- 
ncss,  call  him  by  his  right  name,  and  move  off. 
Having  called  him  by  his  right  name,  our  sever- 
it)'  with  ourselves  for  harboring  him  is  unneces- 
s:ir\'.  To  be  gentle  with  ourselves  is  quite  as 
important  as  to  be  gentle  with  others.  Great 
nervous  suffering  is  caused  by  this  over-severity 
to  one's  self,  and  freedom  is  never  accomplished 
by  that  means.  I\Ian\-  of  us  are  not  severe 
euuugh,  but  very    many    are   too  severe.     One 


98  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

mistake   is   quite  as  bad  as  the  other,  and  as 
disastrous  in  its  effects. 

J  If  we  would  regard  our  own  state  less,  or 
careless  whether  we  were  happy  or  unhappy, 
our  freedom  from  self  would  be  gained  more 
rapidly. 

As  a  man  intensely  interested  in  some  special 
work  does  not  notice  the  weather,  so  we,  if  we 
once  get  hold  of  the  immense  interest  there  may 
be  in  living,  are  not  moved  to  any  depth  by 

v'  changes  in  the  clouds  of  our  personal  state. 
We  take  our  moods  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
look  beyond  to  interests  that  are  greater.  Self 
may  be  a  great  burden  if  we  allow  it.  It  is  only 
a  clear  window  through  which  we  see  and  are 
seen,  if  we  are  free.  And  the  repose  of  such 
freedom  must  be  beyond  our  conception  until 
we  have  found  it.  To  be  absolutely  certain  that 
we  know  ourselves  at  any  time  is  one  great 
impediment  to  reaching  such  rest.  Every  bit 
of  self-knowledge  gained  makes  us  more  doubt- 
ful as  to  knowledge  to  come.  It  would  surprise 
most  of  us  to  see  how  really  unimportant  we 
are.  As  a  part  of  the  universe,  our  importance 
increases  just  in  proportion  to  the  laws  that 
work  through  us;  but  this  self-importance  ib  lost 


Ones  Self.  99 

to  us  entirely  in  our  greater  recognition  of  the 
laws.  As  we  gain  in  the  sensitive  recognition 
of  universal  laws,  every  petty  bit  of  self-contrac- 
tion disappears  as  darkness  before  the  rising 
of  the  sun. 


loo  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 


XI. 

CHILDREN. 

TT  rORK  for  the  better  progress  of  the 
*  *  human  race  is  most  effective  when  it 
is  done  through  the  children;  for  children  are 
future  generations.  The  freedom  in  mature  life 
gained  by  a  training  that  would  enable  the  child 
to  avoid  nervous  irritants  is,  of  course,  greatly 
in  advance  of  most  individual  freedom  to-day. 
This  real  freedom  is  the  spirit  of  the  kinder- 
garten ;  but  Frobel's  method,  as  practised 
to-day,  does  not  attack  and  put  to  rout  all  those 
various  nervous  irritants  which  are  the  enemies 
of  our  civilization.  To  be  sure,  the  teaching 
of  his  philosophy  develops  such  a  nature  that 
much  pettiness  is  thrown  off  without  even  being 
noticed  as  a  snare ;  and  Frobel  helps  one  to 
recognize  all  pettiness  more  rapidly.  There 
are,  however,  many  forms  of  nervous  irritation 
which  one  is  not  warned  against  in  the  kinder- 
garten, and  the  absence  of  which,  if  the  child  is 


Children.  loi 

taught  as  a  matter  of  course  to  avoid  them,  will 
give  him  a  freedom  that  his  elders  and  betters  (?) 
lack.  The  essential  fact  of  this  training  is  that 
it  is  only  truly  effectual  when  coming  from  ex- 
ample rather  than  precept. 

A  child  is  exquisitely  sensitive  to  the  short- 
comings of  others,  antl  very  keen,  as  well  as  cor- 
rect, in  his  criticism,  whether  expressed  or  unex- 
pressed. In  so  Hir  as  a  man  consents  to  be  taught 
by  children,  does  he  not  only  remain  young,  but 
he  frees  himself  from  the  habit  of  impeding  his 
own  progress.  This  is  a  great  impediment,  this 
unwillingness  to  be  taught  by  those  whom  we 
consider  more  ignorant  than  ourselves  because 
they  have  not  been  in  the  world  so  long.  Did 
no  one  ever  take  into  account  the  possibility  of 
our  eyes  being  blinded  just  because  they  had 
been  exposed  to  the  dust  longer?  Certainly 
one  possible  way  of  clearing  this  dust  and 
avoiding  it  is  to  learn  from  observing  those 
who  have  had  less  of  it  to  contend  with. 
Indeed,  one  might  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  no 
training  of  any  child  could  be  effectual  to  a 
lasting  degree  unless  the  education  was  nuitual. 
When  Frobel  says,  "Come,  let  us  live  witli  our 
children,"  he  does  not  moan,  C<,>me,  let  us  stoo[) 


I02  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

to  our  children  ;  he  means,  Let  us  be  at  one 
with  them.  Surely  a  more  perfect  harmony 
in  these  two  great  phases  of  human  nature  — 
the  child  and  the  man  —  would  be  greatly  to 
the  advantage  of  the  latter. 

Yet,  to  begin  at  the  beginning,  who  ever  feels 
the  necessity  of  treating  a  baby  with  respect? 
How  quickly  the  baby  would  resent  intrusive 
attentions,  if  it  knew  how.  Indeed,  I  have  seen 
a  baby  not  a  year  old  resent  being  transferred 
from  one  person  to  another,  with  an  expression 
of  the  face  that  was  most  eloquent.  Women 
seem  so  full  of  their  sense  of  possession  of  a  I 
baby  that  this  eloquence  is  not  even  observed, 
and  the  poor  child's  nervous  irritants  begin  at  a 
very  early  age.  There  is  so  much  to  be  gained 
by  keeping  at  a  respectful  nervous  distance  from 
a  baby,  that  one  has  only  to  be  quiet  enough 
to  perceive  the  new  pleasure  once,  to  lose  the 
temptation  to  interfere ;  and  imagine  the  relief 
to  the  baby !  It  is,  after  all,  the  sense  of  pos- 
session that  makes  the  trouble  ;  and  this  sense 
is  so  strong  that  there  are  babies,  all  the  way 
from  twenty  to  forty,  whose  individuality  is 
intruded  upon  so  grossly  that  they  have  never 
known  what  freedom  is  ;  and  when  they  venture 


Children.  103 

to  struggle  for  it,  their  suffering  is  intense. 
This  is  a  steadily  increasing  nervous  contraction, 
both  in  the  case  of  tlie  possessed  and  the  pos- 
sessor, and  perfect  nervous  health  is  not  pos- 
sible on  either  side.  To  begin  by  respecting 
the  individuality  of  the  baby  would  i)ut  this  last 
abnormal  attitude  of  parent  and  child  out  of  the 
question.  Curiously  enough,  there  is  in  some 
of  the  worst  phases  of  this  parent-child  contrac- 
tion an  external  appearance  of  freedom  which 
only  enhances  the  internal  slavery.  When  a 
man,  who  has  never  known  what  it  was  in 
reality  to  give  up  a  strong  will,  prides  himself 
upon  the  freedom  he  gives  to  his  child,  he 
is  entangling  himself  in  the  meshes  of  self- 
deception,  and  either  depri\ing  another  of  his 
own,  or  ripening  him  for  a  good  hearty  hatred 
which  may  at  any  time  mean  volcanoes  and 
earthquakes  to  both. 

This  forcible  resentment  of  and  resistance  to 
the  strong  will  of  another  is  a  cause  of  great 
nervous  suffering,  the  greater  as  the  expression 
of  such  feeling  is  repressed.  Se\'erc  illness  ma\' 
easily  be  the   result. 

To  train  a  child  to  gain  freedom  from  the 
various  nervous  irritants,  one  must  not  onl\'  be 


I04  y^s  a  Matter  of  Course. 

gaining  the  same  freedom  one's  self,  but  must 
practise  meeting  the  child  in  the  way  he  is 
counselled  to  meet  others.  One  must  refuse  to 
J  be  in  any  way  a  nervous  irritant  to  the  child. 
In  that  case  quite  as  much  instruction  is  received 
as  given.  A  child,  too,  is  doubly  sensitive ;  he 
not  only  feels  the  intrusion  on  his  own  individu- 
ality, but  the  irritable  or  self-willed  attitude  of 
another  in  expressing  such  intrusion. 

Similarly,  in  keeping  a  respectful  distance,  a 
teacher  grows  sensitive  to  the  child,  and  again 
the  help  is  mutual,  with  sometimes  a  balance  in 
favor  of  the  child. 

This  mistaken,  parent-child  attitude  is  often 
the  cause  of  severe  nervous  suffering  in  those 
whose  only  relation  is  that  of  friendship,  when 
one  mind  is  stronger  than  the  other.  Some- 
times there  is  not  any  real  superior  strength  on 
the  one  side;  it  is  simply  by  the  greater  gross- 
ness  of  the  will  that  the  other  is  overcome. 
This  very  grossness  blinds  one  completely  to 
the  individuality  of  a  finer  strength ;  the  finer 
individual  succumbs  because  he  cannot  compete 
with  crowbars,  and  the  parent-child  contraction 
IS  the  disastrous  result.  To  preserve  for  a  child 
a  normal  nervous  system,  one  must  guide  but 


Children.  105 

not  limit  him.  It  is  a  sad  sight  to  see  a  mother 
impressing  upon  a  little  brain  that  its  owner  is 
a  naughty,  naughty  boy,  especially  when  such 
impression  is  increased  by  the  irritability  of  the 
mother.  One  hardly  dares  to  think  how  many 
more  grooves  are  made  in  a  child's  brain 
which  simply  give  him  contractions  to  take 
into  mature  life  with  him ;  how  main-  trivial 
happenings  arc  made  to  assume  a  monstrous 
form  through  being  misrepresented.  It  is  worth 
while  to  think  of  such  dangers,  such  warping 
influences,  only  long  enough  to  a\'oid  them. 

A  child's  imagination  is  so  exquisitely  alive, 
his  whole  little  being  is  so  responsive,  that  the 
guidance  which  can  be  given  him  through 
happy  brain-impressions  is  eminently  practi- 
cable. To  test  this  responsiveness,  and  feci  it 
more  kcenl}',  just  tell  a  child  a  dramatic  stor\-, 
and  watch  his  face  respond ;  or  e\'en  recite  a 
Mother-Goose  rhyme  with  all  the  expression  at 
}'our  command.  The  little  face  changes  in 
rapid  succession,  as  one  event  after  another  is 
related,  in  a  way  to  put  a  modern  act<'r  to 
shame.  If  the  response  is  so  quick  en  tlie 
outside,  it  must  be  at  least  uquall)'  acti\e 
within. 


J 


1 06  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

One  might  as  well  try  to  make  a  white  rose 
red  by  rouging  its  petals  as  to  mould  a  child 
according  to  one's  own  idea  of  what  he  should 
be ;  and  as  the  beauty  and  delicacy  of  the  rose 
would  be  spoiled  by  the  application  of  the 
pigment,  so  is  the  baby's  nervous  system  twisted 
and  contracted  by  the  limiting  force  of  a 
grosser  will. 

Water  the  rose,  put  it  in  the  sun,  keep  the 
insect  enemies  away,  and  then  enjoy  it  for  itself. 
Give  the  child  everything  that  is  consistent  with 
its  best  growth,  but  neither  force  the  growth 
nor  limit  it;  and  stand  far  enough  off  to  see  the 
individuality,  to  enjoy  it  and  profit  by  it.  Use 
the  child's  imagination  to  calm  and  strengthen 
it;  give  it  happy  channels  for  its  activity;  guide 
it  physically  to  the  rhythm  of  fresh  air,  nourish- 
ment, and  rest;  then  do  not  interfere. 

If  the  man  never  turns  to  thank  you  for  such 
guidance,  because  it  all  came  as  a  matter  of 
course,  a  wholesome,  powerful  nervous  system 
will  speak  thanks  daily  with  more  eloquence 
than  any  words  could  ever  express. 


Illness,  107 


XII. 

ILLNESS. 

A  S  far  as  \vc  make  circumstances  guides  and 
not  limitations,  they  serve  us.  Other- 
wise, we  serve  them,  and  suffer  accordinc^ly. 
Just  in  proportion,  too,  to  our  allowing  circum- 
stances to  be  limits  do  we  resist  them.  Such 
resistance  is  a  nervous  strain  which  disables  us 
physically,  antl  of  course  puts  us  more  in  the 
clutches  of  what  appears  to  be  our  misfortune. 
The  moment  we  begin  to  regard  every  circum- 
stance as  an  opportimity,  the  tables  arc  turned 
on  I-'ate,  and  we  have  the  upper  hand  of  her. 

When  we  come  to  think  of  it,  how  much 
common-sense  there  is  in  making  the  best  of 
every  "  opportunity,"  and  what  a  lack  of  sense 
in  chafing  at  that  which  we  choose  to  call  our 
limitations  !  The  former  way  is  sure  to  bring  a 
good  result  of  some  sort,  be  it  ever  so  small ; 
the  latter  wears    upon  our    nerves,    blinds   onr 


1 08  jt^s  a  Matter  of  Course. 

mental  vision,  and  certainly  does  not  cultivate 
the  spirit  of  freedom  in  us. 

How  absurd  it  would  seem  if  a  wounded 
man  were  to  expose  his  wound  to  unnecessary- 
friction,  and  then  complain  that  it  did  not  heal ! 
Yet  that  is  what  many  of  us  have  done  at  one 
time  or  another,  when  prevented  by  illness  from 
carrying  out  our  plans  in  life  just  as  we  had 
arranged.  It  matters  not  whether  those  plans 
were  for  ourselves  or  for  others;  chafing  and 
fretting  at  their  interruption  is  just  as  absurd 
and  quite  as  sure  to  delay  our  recovery,  "  I 
know,"  with  tears  in  our  eyes,  "  I  ought  not  to 
complain,  but  it  is  so  hard,"  To  which  com- 
mon-sense may  truly  answer:  "If  it  is  hard, 
you  want  to  get  well,  don't  you?  Then  why 
do  you  not  take  every  means  to  get  well,  instead 
of  indulging  first  in  the  very  process  that  will 
most  tend  to  keep  you  ill?  "  Besides  this,  there 
is  a  dogged  resistance  which  remains  silent, 
refuses  to  complain  aloud,  and  yet  holds  a  state 
of  rigidity  that  is  even  worse  than  the  external 
expression.  There  are  many  individual  ways 
of  resisting.  Each  of  us  knows  his  own,  and 
knows,  too,  the  futility  of  it;  we  do  not  need 
to  multiply  examples. 


Illness.  109 

The  patients  who  resist  recovery  are  quite  as 
numerous  as  those  who  keep  themselves  ill  by 
resisting  illness.  A  person  of  this  sort  seems  to 
be  fascinated  by  his  own  body  and  its  disorders. 
So  far  from  resisting  illness,  he  may  be  said  to 
be  indulging  in  it.  He  will  talk  about  himself 
and  his  physical  state  for  hours.  He  will  locate 
each  separate  disease  in  a  way  to  surprise  the 
listener  by  his  knowledge  of  his  own  anatomy. 
Not  infrequently  he  will  preface  a  long  account 
of  liimsclf  by  informing  you  that  he  has  a 
hearty  detestation  of  talking  about  himself,  and 
never  could  understand  why  people  wanted  to 
talk  of  their  diseases.  Then  in  minute  de- 
tail he  will  reveal  to  you  his  brain-impression 
of  his  own  case,  and  look  for  sympathetic 
response.  These  people  might  recover  a  hun- 
dred times  over,  and  they  would  never  know  it, 
so  occupied  are  they  in  living  their  own  idea  of 
themselves  and  in  resisting  Nature. 

When  Nature  has  knocked  us  down  because 
of  disobedience  to  her  laws,  we  resist  her  if  wo 
attempt  at  once  to  rise,  or  complain  uf  the  pun- 
i.-^hment.  When  the  dear  lady  would  ha^ten  our 
recovery  to  the  best  of  her  abilit\',  we  resist 
her  if  we  dela\'  i^rogress  by  duelling  on  the 
punishment  or   ch.uing   at  its   necessit}'. 


no  As  a  Matter  of  Course, 

Nature  always  tends  towards  health.  It  is  to 
v^  I  prevent  further  ill- health  that  she  allows  us  to 
'sufifer  for  our  disobedience  to  her  laws.  It  is 
to  lead  us  back  to  health  that  she  is  giving  the 
best  of  her  powers,  having  dealt  the  deserved 
punishment.  The  truest  help  we  can  give 
Nature  is  not  to  think  of  our  bodies,  well  or 
ill,  more  than  is  necessary  for  their  best 
health. 

I  knew  a  woman  who  was,  to  all  appear- 
ances, remarkably  well ;  in  fact,  her  health  was 
her  profession.  She  was  supposed  to  be  a 
Priestess  of  Health.  She  talked  about  and 
dwelt  upon  the  health  of  her  body  until  one 
would  have  thought  there  was  nothing  in  the 
world  worth  thinking  of  but  a  body.  She  dis- 
played her  fine  points  in  the  way  of  health,  and 
enjoyed  being  questioned  with  regard  to  them. 
This  woman  was  taken  ill.  She  exhibited  the 
same  interest,  the  same  pleasure,  in  talking  over 
and  dwelling  upon  her  various  forms  of  illness ; 
in  fact,  more.  She  counted  her  diseases.  I  am 
not  aware  that  she  ever  counted  her  strong 
points  of  health. 

This  illustration  is  perhaps  clear  enough  to 
give  a  new  sense  of  the  necessity  for  forgetting 
our   bodies.      When    ill,     use    every    necessary 


Illness,  1 1 1 

remedy;  do  all  that  is  best  to  bring  renewed 
health.  Having  made  sure  you  are  doing  all 
you  can,  forget ;  don't  follow  the  process. 
When,  as  is  often  the  case,  pain  or  other  suffer- 
ing puts  forgetting  out  of  the  question,  use  no 
unnecessary  resistance,  and  forget  as  soon  as 
the  pain  is  past.  Don't  strengthen  the  impres- 
sion by  talking  about  it  or  telling  it  over  to  no 
purpose.  Better  forego  a  little  sympathy,  and 
forget  the  pain  sooner. 

It  is  with  our  nerves  that  we  resist  when 
Nature  has  punished  us.  It  is  nervous  strain 
that  we  put  into  a  useless  attention  to  and 
repetition  of  the  details  of  our  illness.  Nature 
wants  all  this  nerve-force  to  get  us  well  tiie 
faster;  we  can  save  it  for  her  by  not  resisting 
and  by  a  healthy  forgetting.  By  taking  an 
illness  as  comfortably  as  possible,  and  turning 
our  attention  to  something  pleasant  outside  of 
ourselves,  recovery  is  made  more  rapidly. 

I\Iany  illnesses  are  accompanied  by  more  or 
less  nervous  strain,  and  its  natural  control  will 
assist  nature  and  enable  medicines  to  work 
more  quickl\'.  Tlie  slowest  process  of  recov- 
ery, and  that  which  most  needs  the  relief  of  a 
wholesome    non  resistance,  is  when    the  illness 


112  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

is  the  result  entirely  of  over-worked  nerves. 
Nature  allows  herself  to  be  tried  to  the  utmost 
before  she  permits  nervous  prostration.  She 
insists  upon  being  paid  in  full,  principal  and 
interest,  before  she  heals  such  illness.  Sa 
severe  is  she  in  this  case  that  a  patient  may 
appear  in  every  way  physically  well  and  strong 
weeks,  nay,  months,  before  he  really  is  so.  It 
was  the  nerves  that  broke  down  last,  and  the 
nerves  are  the  last  to  be  restored.  It  is,  how- 
ever, wonderful  to  see  how  much  more  rapid 
and  certain  recovery  is  if  the  patient  will  only 
separate  himself  from  his  nervous  system,  and 
refuse  all  useless  strain. 

Here  are  some  simple  directions  which  may 
help  nervous  patients,  if  considered  in  regular 
order.  They  can  hardly  be  read  too  often  if 
the  man  or  woman  is  in  for  a  long  siege ;  and 
if  simply  and  steadily  obeyed,  they  will  shorten 
the  siege  by  many  days,  nay,  by  many  weeks 
or  months,  in  some  cases. 

Remember  that  Nature  tends  towards  health. 
All  you  want  is  nourishment,  fresh  air,  exercise, 
rest,  and  patience. 

All  your  worries  and  anxieties  now  are  tired 
nerves. 


Ilhicss.  1 1 3 

When  a  worry  appears,  drop  it.  If  it  appears 
again,  drop  it  again.  And  so  continue  to  drop 
it  if  it  appears  fifty  or  a  hundred  times  a  day 
or  more. 

If  you  feel  like  crying,  cry;  but  know  that 
it  is  the  tired  nerves  that  are  crying,  and  don't 
wonder  why  you  are  so  fooHsh,  —  don't  feel 
ashamed  of  yourself. 

If  you  cannot  sleep,  don't  care.  Get  all  the 
rest  you  can  without  sleeping.  That  will  bring 
sleep  when  it  is  ready  to  come,  or  you  are  ready 
to  have  it. 

Don't  wonder  whether  you  are  going  to  sleep 
or  not.  Go  to  bed  to  rest,  and  let  sleep  come 
when  it  pleases. 

Think  about  everything  in  Nature.  Follow 
the  growing  of  the  trees  and  flowers.  Remem- 
ber all  the  beauties  in  Nature  you  have  ever 
seen. 

Say  Mother-Goose  rh}'mes  over  and  over, 
trying  how  many  you  can  remember. 

Read  bright  stories  for  children,  and  quiet 
no\'cls,  especially  Jane  ^Yusten's. 

.Sometimes   it  helps  to  work  on  arithmetic. 

Keep  aloof  from  emotions. 

Think  of  other  people. 


114  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

Never  think  of  yourself. 

Bear  in  mind  that  nerves  always  get  well  in 
waves ;  and  if  you  thought  yourself  so  much 
better,  —  almost  wejl,  indeed,  —  and  then  have  a 
bad  time  of  suffering,  don't  wonder  why  it  is, 
or  what  could  have  brought  it  on.  Know  that 
it  is  part  of  the  recovery-process;  take  it  as 
easily  as  you   can,   and   then  ignore  it. 

Don't  try  to  do  any  number  of  things  to  get 
yourself  well;  don't  change  doctors  any  num- 
ber of  times,  or  take  countless  medicines. 
Every  doctor  knows  he  cannot  hurry  your 
recovery,  whatever  he  may  say,  and  you  only 
retard  it  by  being  over-anxious  to  get  strong. 

Drop  every  bit  of  unnecessary  muscular 
tension. 

When  you  walk,  feel  your  feet  heavy,  as  if 
your  shoes  were  full  of  lead,  and  think  in 
your  feet. 

Be  as  much  like  a  child  as  possible.  Play 
with  children  as  one  of  them,  and  think  with 
them  when  you  can. 

As  you  begin  to  recover,  find  something 
every  day  to  do  for  others.  Best  let  it  be  in  the 
way  of  house-work,  or  gardening,  or  something 
to  do  with  your  hands. 


Illness.  1 1 5 

Take  care  of  yourself  every  day  as  a  matter 
of  course,  as  you  would  dress  or  undress;  and 
be  sure  that  health  is  coming.  Say  over  and 
over  to  yourself:  Nourishment,  fresh  air,  exer- 
cise, rest,   PATIENCE. 

When  you  are  well,  and  resume  your  former 
life,  if  old  associations  recall  the  unhappy 
nervous  feelings,  know  that  it  is  only  the  associ- 
ations ;  pay  no  attention  to  the  suffering,  and 
work  right  on.  Only  be  careful  to  take  life 
very  quietly  until  you  are  quite  used  to  being 
well  again. 

An  illness  that  is  merely  nervous  is  an  im- 
mense opportunity,  if  one  will  only  realize  it 
as  such.  It  not  only  makes  one  more  genuinely 
appreciative  of  the  best  health,  and  the  way  to 
keep  it,  it  opens  the  sympathies  and  gives  a 
feeling  for  one's  fellow-creatures  which,  having 
once  found,  we  cannot  prize  too  highly. 

It  would  seem  hard  to  believe  that  all  must 
suffer  to  find  a  delicate  sympathy;  it  can  hardly 
be  so.  To  be  always  strong,  and  at  the  same 
time  full  of  warm  sympatiiy,  is  possible,  with 
more  thought.  When  illness  or  adverse  cir- 
cumstances bring  it,  the  gate  has  been  opened 
for  us. 


1 1 6  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

If  illness  is  taken  as  an  opportunity  to  better 
health,  not  to  more  illness,  our  mental  attitude 
will  put  complaint  out  of  the  question ;  and  as 
the  practice  spreads  it  will  as  surely  decrease 
the  tendency  to  illness  in  others  as  it  will 
shorten  its  duration  in  ourselves. 


Sentiment  versus  Setitimentaliiy.     1 1 7 


XIII. 

SENTIMENT  versus  SENTIMENTALHT. 

T^REEDOM    from    sentimentality   opens   the 
^       way  for  true  sentiment. 

An  immense  amount  of  time,  thought,  and 
nervous  force  is  wasted  in  sentinicntaHzing 
about  "  being  good."  With  many,  the  amount 
of  talk  about  their  evils  and  their  desire  to 
overcome  them  is  a  thermometer  which  indi- 
cates about  five  times  that  amount  of  thought. 
Neither  the  talk  nor  the  thought  is  of  assistance 
in  leading  to  any  greater  strength  or  to  a  more 
useful  life;  because  the  talk  is  all  talk,  and  the 
essence  of  both  talk  and  thought  is  a  selfish, 
morbid  pleasure  in  duelling  upon  one's  self. 
I  remember  the  remark  of  a  young  girl  who 
had  been  several  times  to  pra}-er-meeting  where 
she  heard  the  same  woman  say  every  time  that 
she  "  longed  for  the  true  spirit  of  religion  in 
her  life."  With  all  simplicit}-,  this  child  said: 
"  If  she  longs  for  it,  wli\-  due.->  n't  she  work  and 


1 18  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

find  it,  instead  of  coming  every  week  and  telling 
us  that  she  longs?"  In  all  probability  the 
woman  returned  from  every  prayer-meeting  with 
the  full  conviction  that,  having  told  her  aspira- 
tions, she  had  reached  the  height  desired,  and 
was  worthy  of  all  praise. 

Prayer-meetings  in  the  old,  orthodox  sense 
are  not  so  numerous  as  they  were  fifty  years 
ago ;  but  the  same  morbid  love  of  teUing  one's 
own  experiences  and  expressing  in  words  one's 
own  desires  for  a  better  life  is  as  common 
as  ever. 

Many  who  would  express  horror  at  these 
public  forms  of  sentimentalizing  do  not  hesitate 
to  indulge  in  it  privately  to  any  extent.  Nor 
do  they  realize  for  a  moment  that  it  is  the  same 
morbid  spirit  that  moves  them.  It  might  not 
be  so  pernicious  a  practice  if  it  were  not  so 
steadily  weakening. 

If  one  has  a  spark  of  real  desire  for  better 
ways  of  Hving,  sentimentalizing  about  it  is  a  sure 
extinguisher  if  practised  for  any  length  of  time. 

A  woman  will  sometimes  pour  forth  an 
amount  of  gush  about  wishing  to  be  better, 
broader,  nobler,  stronger,  in  a  manner  that 
would  lead  you,  for  a  moment,  perhaps,  to  be- 


Sentiment  versus  Sentimentality,     1 1 9 

licvc  in  her  sincerity.  But  when,  in  the  next 
hour,  you  see  her  neglecting  little  duties  that 
a  woman  who  was  really  broad,  strong,  and  noble 
would  attend  to  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  not 
give  a  second  thought  to ;  when  you  see  that 
although  she  must  realize  that  attention  to  these 
'^mailer  duties  should  come  first,  to  open  the 
way  to  her  higher  aspirations,  she  continues  to 
neglect  them  and  continues  to  aspire,  —  you  arc 
surely  right  in  concluding  that  she  is  using  up 
her  nervous  system  in  sentimentalizing  about  a 
better  life ;  and  by  that  means  is  doing  all  in 
her  power  to  hinder  the  achievement  of  it. 

It  is  curious  and  very  sad  to  see  what  might 
be  a  really  strong  nature  weakening  itself 
steadily  with  this  philosophy  and  water.  Of 
course  it  reaches  a  maudlin  state  if  it  continues. 

His  Satanic  Majesty  must  offer  this  dose, 
sweetened  with  the  sugar  of  self-love,  with 
intense  satisfaction.  And  if  we  may  personify 
that  gentleman  for  the  sake  of  illustration,  what 
a  fine  sarcastic  smile  must  dwell  upon  his  coun- 
tenance as  he  sees  it  swallowed  and  enj.<}-c(l, 
and  knows  that  he  tlid  not  even  ha\-e  to  wa^tc 
spice  as  an  ingredient !  The  sugar  would  h.u'C 
drowned  the  taste  of  any  spice  he  could  suppl\-. 


1 20  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

There  is  not  even  the  appearance  of  strength 
in  sentimentalizing. 

Besides  the  sentimentalizing  about  ourselves 
in  our  desire  to  live  a  better  life,  there  is  the 
same  morbid  practice  in  our  love  for  others ; 
and  this  is  quite  as  weakening.  It  contains,  of 
course,  no  jot  of  real  affection.  What  whole- 
some love  there  is  lives  in  spite  of  the  sentimen- 
talizing, and  fortunately  is  sometimes  strong 
enough  on  one  side  or  the  other  to  crowd  it  out 
and  finally  exterminate  it. 

It  is  curious  to  notice  how  often  this  sham 
sentiment  for  others  is  merely  a  matter  of 
nerves.  As  an  instance  we  can  take  an 
example,  which  is  quite  true,  of  a  woman  who 
fancied  herself  desperately  fond  of  another,  when, 
much  to  her  surprise,  an  acute  attack  of  tooth- 
ache and  dentist-fright  put  the  "  affection  " 
quite  out  of  her  head.  In  this  case  the  "  love" 
was  a  nervous  irritant,  and  the  toothache  a 
counter-irritant.  Of  course  the  sooner  such 
superficial  feeling  is  recognized  and  shaken  off, 
the  nearer  we  are  to  real  sentiment. 

"  But,"  some  one  will  say,  "  how  are  we  to 
know  what  is  real  and  what  is  not?  I  would 
much  rather  live  my  life  and  get  more  or  less 


Sentiment  versus  Sentimentality.     1 2 1 

unreality  than  have  this  everlasting  analyzing." 
There  need  be  no  abnormal  analyzing;  that  is 
as  morbid  as  the  other  state.  Indulge  to  your 
heart's  content  in  whatever  seems  to  you  real, 
in  what  you  believe  to  be  wholesome  sentiment. 
But  be  ready  to  recognize  it  as  sham  at  the 
first  hint  you  get  to  that  effect,  and  to  drop  it 
accordingly. 

A  perfectly  healthy  body  will  shed  germs 
of  disease  without  ever  feeling  their  presence. 
So  a  perfectly  healthy  mind  will  shed  the  germs 
of  sentimentality.  Few  of  us  are  so  healthy  in 
mind  but  that  we  have  to  recognize  a  germ  or 
two  and  apply  a  disinfectant  before  we  can  reach 
the  freedom  that  will  enable  us  to  shed  the  germs 
unconsciously.  A  good  disinfectant  is,  to  refuse 
to  talk  of  our  own  feelings  or  desires  or  affec- 
tions, unless  for  some  end  which  we  know  may 
help  us  to  more  light  and  better  strength. 
Talking,  however,  is  mild  in  its  weakening  effect 
compared  with  thinking.  It  is  better  to  dribble 
sham  sentiment  in  words  over  and  over  than  to 
think  it,  and  repress  the  desire  to  talk.  The 
only  clear  way  is  to  drop  it  from  our  minds 
the  moment  it  appears ;  to  lot  go  of  it  as  we 
would 'loosen  our  fingers  and  drop  something 
dis:i'^rceablc  from  our  hands. 


12  2  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

A  good  amount  of  exercise  and  fresh  air 
helps  one  out  of  sentimentaHzing.  This  morbid 
mental  habit  is  often  the  result  of  a  body  ill  in 
some  way  or  another.  Frequently  it  is  simply 
the  effect  of  tired  nerves.  We  help  others  and 
ourselves  out  of  it  more  rapidly  by  not  men- 
tioning the  sentimentalizing  habit,  but  by  taking 
some  immediate  means  towards  rest,  fresh  air, 
vigorous  exercise,  and  better  nourishment. 

Mistakes  are  often  made  and  ourselves  or 
others  kept  an  unnecessary  length  of  time  in- 
mental  suffering  because  we  fail  to  attribute  a 
morbid  mental  state  to  its  physical  cause.  We 
blame  ourselves  or  others  for  behavior  that  we 
call  wicked  or  silly,  and  increase  the  suffering, 
when  all  that  is  required  is  a  little  thoughtful 
care  of  the  body  to  cause  the  silly  wickedness 
to  disappear  entirely. 

We  are  supposed  to  be  indulging  in  sickly 
sentiment  when  we  are  really  suffering  from 
sickly  nerves.  An  open  sympathy  will  detect 
this  mistake  very  soon,  and  save  intense  suffer- 
ing by  an  early  remedy. 

Sentiment  is  as  strengthening  as  sentimentality 
is  weakening.  It  is  as  strong,  as  clear,  and  as 
fine  in  flavor  as  the  other  is  sickly  sweet.     No 


Sentiment  versus  Sentitncntality.     i  23 

one  who  has  tasted  the  wholesome  vigor  of  the 
one  could  ever  care  again  for  the  weakening 
sweetness  of  the  other,  however  much  he  might 
have  to  suffer  in  getting  rid  of  it.  True  senti- 
ment seeks  us ;  we  do  not  seek  it.  It  not  only 
seeks  us,  it  possesses  us,  and  runs  in  our  blood 
like  the  new  life  which  comes  from  fresh  air 
on  top  of  a  mountain.  With  that  true  senti- 
ment we  can  feel  a  desire  to  know  better  things 
and  to  live  them.  We  can  feel  a  hearty  love 
for  others ;  and  a  love  that  is,  in  its  essence,  the 
strongest  of  all  human  loves.  We  can  give  and 
receive  a  healthy  sympathy  which  we  could 
never  have  known  otherwise.  We  can  cnj(iy 
talking  about  ourselves  and  about"  being  good," 
because  every  word  we  say  will  be  spontaneous 
and  direct,  with  more  thouglit  of  law  than  of 
self.  This  true  sentiment  seeks  and  finds  us 
as  we  recognize  the  sham  and  shake  it  off,  and 
as  we  refuse  to  dwell  upon  our  actiims  and 
thoughts  in  the  past,  or  to  look  back  at  all 
except  when  it  is  a  necessity  to  gain  a  better 
result. 

We  are  like  Orpheus,  and  true  sentiment  is 
our  luirydice  with  her  touch  on  <uir  shoulder; 
the  spirits  that  follow  are  the  shani-senliincnts, 


1 24  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

the  temptations  to  look  back  and  pose.  The 
music  of  our  lyre  is  the  love  and  thought  we 
bring  to  our  every-day  life.  Let  us  keep  steadily 
on  with  the  music,  and  lead  our  Eurydice  right 
through  Hades  until  we  have  her  safely  over 
the  Lethe,  and  we  know  sentimentality  only  as 
a  name. 


Problems. 


125 


XIV. 
PROBLEMS. 

THERE  are  very  few  persons  who  have  not 
had  the  experience  of  giving  up  a  prob- 
lem in  mathematics  late  in  the  evening,  and 
waking  in  the  morning  with  the  solution  clear 
in  their  minds.  That  has  been  the  experience 
of  many,  too,  in  real-life  problems.  If  it  were 
more  common,  a  great  amount  of  nervous  strain 
might  be  saved. 

There  are  big  problems  and  little,  real  and 
imaginary;  and  some  that  are  merely  tired 
nerves.  In  problems,  the  useless  nervous  ele- 
ment often  plays  a  large  part.  If  the  "  prob- 
lems "  were  dropped  out  of  mind  with  sufferers 
from  nervous  prostration,  their  progress  towards 
renewed  health  might  be  just  twice  as  rapid. 
If  they  were  met  normally,  many  nervous  men 
and  women  might  be  entirely  saved  from  even 
a  bowing  acquaintance  with  nervous  prostration. 
It   is   not  a  difficult   matter,  that  of  meeting  a 


126  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

problem  normally,  —  simply  let  it  solve  itself. 
In  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  if  we  leave  it  alone  and 
live  as  if  it  were  not,  it  will  solve  itself.  It  is  at 
first  a  matter  of  continual  surprise  to  see  how 
surely  this  self-solution  is  the  result  of  a  whole- 
some ignoring  both  of  little  problems  and  big 
ones. 

In  the  tenth  case,  where  the  problem  must  be 
faced  at  once,  to  face  it  and  decide  to  the  best 
of  our  ability  is,  of  course,  the  only  thing  to 
do.  But  having  decided,  be  sure  that  it  ceases 
to  be  a  problem.  If  we  have  made  a  mistake, 
it  is  simply  a  circumstance  to  guide  us  for  simi- 
lar problems  to  come. 

All  this  is  obvious;  we  know  it,  and  have 
probably  said  it  to  ourselves  dozens  of  times. 
If  we  are  sufferers  from  nervous  problems,  we 
may  have  said  it  dozens  upon  dozens  of  times. 
The  trouble  is  that  we  have  said  it  and  not 
acted  upon  it.  When  a  problem  will  persist 
in  worrying  us,  in  pulling  and  dragging  upon 
our  nerves,  an  invitation  to  continue  the  worry- 
ing until  it  has  worked  itself  out  is  a  great  help 
towards  its  solution  or  disappearance. 

I  remember  once  hearing  a  bright  woman  say 
that  when  there  was  anything  difficult  to  decide 


Problems.  127 

in  her  life  she  stepped  aside  and  let  the  oppos- 
ing elements  fight  it  out  within  her.  Presum- 
ably she  herself  threw  in  a  little  help  on  one 
side  or  the  other  which  really  decided  the  bat- 
tle. But  the  help  was  given  from  a  clear  stand- 
point, not  from  a  brain  entirely  befogged  in  the 
thick  of  the  fight 

Whatever  form  problems  may  take,  however 
important  they  may  seem,  when  they  attack 
tired  nerves  they  must  be  let  alone.  A  good 
way  is  to  go  out  into  the  open  air  and  so 
identify  one's  self  with  Nature  that  one  is  drawn 
away  in  spite  of  one's  self.  A  big  wind  will 
sometimes  blow  a  brain  clear  of  nervous  prob- 
lems in  a  very  little  while  if  we  let  it  have 
its  will.  Another  way  out  is  to  interest  one's 
self  in  some  game  or  other  amusement,  or  to 
get  a  healthy  interest  in  other  people's  affairs, 
and  help  where  we  can. 

Each  individual  can  find  his  own  favorite 
escape.  Of  course  we  should  never  shirk  a 
problem  that  must  be  decided,  but  let  us 
always  wait  a  reasonable  time  for  it  to  decide 
itself  first.  The  solving  that  is  done  for  us 
is  invariably  better  and  clearer  than  any  we 
could  do  for  ourselves. 


1 28  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

It  will  be  curious,  too,  to  see  how  many 
apparently  serious  problems,  relieved  of  the 
importance  given  them  by  a  strained  nervous 
system,  are  recognized  to  be  nothing  at  all. 
They  fairly  dissolve  themselves  and  disappear. 


Summary.  129 


XV. 

SUMMARY. 

THE  line  has  not  been  clearly  drawn,  either 
in  general  or  by  individuals,  between  true 
civilization  and  the  various  perversions  of  the 
civilizing  process.  This  is  mainly  because  we 
do  not  fairly  face  the  fact  that  the  process 
of  civilization  is  entirely  according  to  Nature, 
and  that  the  perversions  which  purport  to  be  a 
direct  outcome  of  civilization  are,  in  point  of 
fact,  contradictions  or  artificialities  which  are 
simply  a  going-over  into  barbarism,  just  as  too 
far  east  is  west. 

If  you  suggest  "Nature"  in  habits  and  cus- 
toms to  most  men  nowadays,  they  at  once 
interpret  you  to  mean  "  beastly,"  although  they 
would  never  use  the  word. 

It  is  natural  to  a  beast  to  be  beastly  :  he  could 

not  be  anything  else ;   and  the  true  order  of  his 

life  as  a  beast  is  to  be  respected.     It  is  natural 

to  a  man  to  govern  himsiif,  as  he  pt^s^csses  the 

u 


130  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

power  of  distinguishing  and  choosing.  With 
all  the  senses  and  passions  much  keener,  and 
in  their  possibilities  many  degrees  finer,  than 
the  beasts,  he  has  this  governing  power,  which 
makes  his  whole  nervous  system  his  servant 
just  in  so  far  as  through  this  servant  he 
loyally  obeys  his  own  natural  laws.  A  man 
in  building  a  bridge  could  never  complain  when 
he  recognized  that  it  was  his  obedience  to  the 
laws  of  mechanics  which  enabled  him  to  build 
the  bridge,  and  that  he  never  could  have  arbi- 
trarily arranged  laws  that  would  make  the 
bridge  stand.  In  the  same  way,  one  who  has 
come  to  even  a  slight  recognition  of  the  laws 
that  enable  him  to  be  naturally  civilized  and  not 
barbarously  so,  steadily  gains,  not  only  a  realiza- 
tion of  the  absolute  futility  of  resisting  the  laws, 
but  a  growing  respect  and  affection  for  them. 

It  is  this  sham  civilization,  this  selfish  refine- 
ment of  barbarous  propensities,  this  clashing  of 
nervous  systems  instead  of  the  clashing  of 
weapons,  which  has  been  largely,  if  not  en- 
tirely, the  cause  of  such  a  variety  and  extent 
of  nervous  trouble  throughout  the  so-called 
civilized  world.  It  is  not  confined  to  nerv- 
ous prostration;     if  there    is   a   defective   spot 


Sum7nary.  1 3 1 

organically,  an  inherited  tendency  to  weakness, 
t'lie  nervous  irritation  is  almost  certain  to  con- 
centrate upon  it  instead  of  developing  into  a 
general  nervous  break-down. 

With  regard  to  a  cure  for  all  this,  no  super- 
ficial remedy,  such  as  resting  and  feeding,  is 
going  to  prove  of  lasting  benefit;  any  more 
than  a  healing  salve  will  suffice  to  do  away  with 
a  blood  disease  which  manifests  itself  by  sores 
on  the  surface  of  the  skin.  No  physician  would 
for  a  moment  inveigle  himself  into  the  belief 
that  the  use  of  external  means  alone  would  cure 
a  skin  disease  that  was  caused  by  some  internal 
disorder.  Such  skin  irritation  may  be  easily 
cured  by  the  right  remedy,  whereas  an  external 
salve  would  only  be  a  means  of  repression,  and 
would  result  in  much  greater  trouble  subse- 
quently. 

Imagine  a  man  superficially  cured  of  an  ill- 
ness, and  then  exposed  while  yet  barely  conva- 
lescent to  influences  which  produce  a  relapse. 
That  is  what  is  done  in  many  cases  when  a 
[Kitient  is  rested,  and  fattened  like  a  prize  pig, 
and  then  sent  home  into  all  the  old  conditions, 
with  nothing  to  help  him  to  ehide  them  but  a 
wcU-fcd,    well-rested    bod\'.      That,    undeniably, 


132  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

means  a  great  deal  for  a  short  period ;  but  the 
old  conditions  discover  the  scars  of  old  wounds, 
and  the  process  of  reopening  is  merely  a  matter 
of  time.  From  all  sides  complaints  are  heard 
of  the  disastrous  results  of  civilization;  while 
with  even  a  slight  recognition  of  the  fact  that 
the  trouble  was  caused  by  the  rudiments  of  bar- 
barism, and  that  the  higher  civilization  is  the 
life  which  is  most  truly  natural,  remedies  for 
our  nervous  disorders  would  be  more  easily 
found. 

It  is  the  perversions  of  the  natural  process  of 
civilization  that  do  the  harm ;  just  as  with  so- 
called  domesticated  flowers  there  arise  coarse 
abnormal  growths,  and  even  diseases,  which  the 
wholesome,  delicate  organism  of  a  wild  flower 
makes  impossible. 

The  trouble  is  that  we  do  not  know  our  own 
best  powers  at  all ;  the  way  is  stopped  so  effect- 
ually by  this  persistent  nervous  irritation.  With 
all  its  superficiality,  it  is  enough  to  impede  tlie 
way  to  the  clear,  nervous  strength  which  is  cer- 
tainly our  inheritance. 

After  all,  what  has  been  said  in  the  foregoing 
chapters  is  simply  illustrative  of  a  prevalent 
mental  skin-disorder. 


Summary.  133 

If  the  whole  world  were  suffering  from  a 
physical  cutaneous  irritation,  the  minds  of  in- 
dividuals would  be  so  concentrated  on  their 
sensations  that  no  one  could  know  of  various 
wonderful  powers  in  his  own  body  which  are 
now  taken  as  a  matter  of  course.  There  would 
be  self-consciousness  in  every  physical  action, 
because  it  must  come  through,  and  in  spite 
of,  external  irritation.  Just  in  so  far  as  each 
individual  one  of  us  found  and  used  the  right 
remedy  for  our  skin-trouble  should  we  be  free 
to  discover  physical  powers  that  were  unknown 
to  our  fellow-sufferers,  and  free  to  help  them  to 
a  similar  remedy  when  they  were  willing  to  be 
helped. 

This  mental  skin-disorder  is  far  more  irritat 
ing  and  more  destructive,  and    not    only  leads 
to,  but  actually  is,  in  all  its  forms,  a  sort  of  self- 
consciousness  through  which  we  work  with  real 
diiTicult}'. 

To  discover  its  shallowness  and  the  simplicity 
of  its  cure  is  a  boon  we  can  hardly  realize  until, 
by  steady  application,  we  have  found  the  relief. 
The  discovery  and  cure  do  not  lead  to  a  mil- 
lennium any  more  than  the  cure  of  any  skin  dis- 
ease guarantees  permanent  health.     For  deeper 


1 34  As  a  Matter  of  Course. 

personal  troubles  there  are  other  remedies.  Each 
will  recognize  and  find  his  own;  but  freedom, 
through  and  through,  can  never  be  found,  or 
even  looked  for  clearly,  while  the  irritation 
from  the  skin  disease  is  withdrawing  our  at- 
tention. 

"  But,  friends, 
Truth  is  within  ourselves  :  it  takes  no  rise 
From  outward  things ;  whatever  you  may  believe, 
There  is  an  inmost  centre  in  us  all 
Where  truth  abides  in  fulness  ;  and  around. 
Wall  upon  wall,  the  gross  flesh  hems  it  in, 
This  perfect  clear  perception  which  is  truth. 
A  baffling  and  perverting  carnal  mesh 
Blinds  it,  and  makes  all  error;  and  TO  know 
Rather  consists  in  opening  out  a  way 
Whence  the  imprisoned  splendor  may  escape. 
Than  in  effecting  entry  for  a  light 
Supposed  to  be  without." 

Browning's  "  baffling  and  perverting  carnal 
mesh  "  might  be  truly  interpreted  as  a  nervous 
tangle  which  is  nothing  at  all  except  as  we 
make  it  with  our  own  perverted  sight. 

To  help  us  to  move  a  little  distance  from  the 
phantom  tangle,  that  it  may  disappear  before 
our  eyes,  has  been  the  aim  of  this  book.     So  by 


Summary.  135 

curing  our  mental  skin-disease  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  then  forgetting  that  it  ever  existed, 
we  may  come  to  real  life.  This  no  one  can 
find  for  another,  but  each  has  within  himself 
the  way. 


THE    END. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Pablicatious. 

POWER  THROUGH  REPOSE. 

By  ANNIE   PAYSON   CALL. 

"  When  the  body  is  perfectly  adjusted,  f'erfectly  suf-flied  -with  fofee, 
ferfeitly  free,  and  works  'uilh  the  greatest  economy  of  expenditure,  it  it 
fitted  to  be  a  perfect  instrument  alike  of  impression,  experience,  and 
expression."  —  \V'.  R.  Aluer. 


One    Handsome    1 6mo   Volume.     Cloth.     Price,    it. 00. 


"This  book  is  needed.  The  nervous  activity,  the  irtellcclual 
wear  and  tear,  of  this  day  and  land  rccjuires  a  physical  rci)ose 
as  has  none  other.  Every  intellectual  worker  finds  so  much  stim- 
ulant in  his  associations  and  in  the  opportunities  for  labor  that 
he  takes  on  more  and  more  res])onsibilitics,  till  he  has  all  the  strain 
it  is  possible  for  him  to  carry  when  everything  goes  sniDOthly,  and 
when  comjilications  arise  he  has  no  reserve  for  emergencies."  — 
Journal  of  Education. 

"  A  book  which  has  a  peculiar  timeliness  and  value  for  a  great 
number  of  people  in  this  country  is  '  Tower  through  Repose,'  by 
Annie  I'ay>on  Call.  This  volume,  which  is  written  in  a  very 
interesting  and  entertaining  style,  is  a  moderate  and  judicious  effort 
to  persuade  .Americans  that  they  ate  living  loo  hard  and  too  fast, 
aiul  ti)  point  out  specitic.illy  the  physical  and  intellectual  results 
of  ince>sant  strain.  To  most  i)eoi)le  the  Viook  has  a  novel  jugges- 
tivciuss.  It  makes  us  feel  that  we  are  the  victims  of  a  disease  of 
wiiich  sve  weie  largily  ignorant,  and  that  there  are  remedies  within 
our  ri..iili  i>f  wliicli  we  are  i (pi, illy  ignorant.  We  know  of  no 
volume  that  h.is  lonie  from  the  ]>icss  in  a  long  time  which,  widely 
and  wisely  re.ul,  C'  uid  accoin;)li>h  >o  much  immediate  good  as 
thi^  little  book.  It  is  t!ie  doctrine  of  phv^ical  rest  stated  in  un- 
tei:iinical  langu.ige.  wilii  juai  tical  suggotioiis.  It  ought  to  be  in 
Ine  lia.ids  of  .it  le.ist  cigiit  out  of  every  ten  men  and  women  now 
living  and  workiiiL:  mi  this  continent.'' —  Christian  Union. 


S.>'t  hy  all  books,-lI,-rs.     Maih  J.  post-paid,   by  the  fub. 
IL/ui's. 

ROni'lvTS    liROTTIIIR.S,  Luston. 


THE  WEDDING  GARMENT, 

a  Cale  of  tl)c  life  to  Comt. 
BY    LOUIS    PENDLETON. 


IGmo.    Cloth,  price,  $1.00.     White  and  gold,  $1.25. 


"  The  Wedding  Garment "  tells  the  story  of  the  continued  existence  of  a  young 
man  after  his  death  or  departure  from  the  natural  world.  Awakening  in  the 
other  world, —  in  an  intermediate  region  between  Heaven  and  Hell,  where  the 
good  and  the  evil  live  together  temporarily  commingled,  —  he  is  astonished  and 
delighted  to  find  himself  the  same  man  in  all  respects  as  to  every  characteristic  ol 
his  mind  and  uiiin.ate  of  the  body.  So  close'.y  does  everythnig  about  him 
resemble  the  woild  he  has  left  behind,  that  he  believes  he  is  still  in  the  latter 
until  convinced  of  the  error.  The  young  man  has  good  impulses,  but  is  no  saint, 
and  he  listens  to  the  persuasions  of  cenain  persons  who  were  his  friends  in  the 
world,  but  who  are  now  numbered  amoiig  ihe  evil,  even  to  the  extent  of  following 
them  downward  to  the  very  confines  of  Hell.  Resisting  at  last  and  saving  him- 
self, later  on,  and  after  many  remarkable  experiences,  he  gradually  makes  his  way 
through  the  intermediate  region  to  the  gateways  of  Heaven,  —  \Yhich  can  be  fouid 
only  by  those  prepared  to  enter,  —  where  he  is  left  with  the  prospect  before  hira 
of  a  blessed  eternity  in  the  company  of  the  xsoman  he  loves. 

The  book  is  written  in  a  reverential  spirit ,  it  is  unique  and  quite  unlike  ar.y 
story  of  the  same  type  heretofore  published,  full  of  telling  incidents  and  dramatic 
situations,  and  not  merely  a  record  of  the  doings  of  sexless  "shades"  but  of 
living  human  beings. 

The  one  grand  practical  lesson  which  this  book  teaches,  and  wh-ch  is  in 
accord  with  the  diviiie  UOrd  and  the  New  Church  unfoldiiij;s  of  it  exeryuhere 
teach,  is  the  need  of  an  interior,  true  purpose  in  life.  The  deepest  ruling  pur- 
po^o  which  we  cheri.<.h,  what  we  constantly  strive  lor  and  determine  to  pursue  as 
tlie  most  real  and  precious  thing  of  life,  that  rules  us  everywhere,  that  is  our  ego, 
our  life,  is  what  will  have  its  way  at  last.  It  will  at  last  break  through  all  dis- 
guise ;  it  will  bring  all  external  conduct  into  harmony  with  itself.  If  it  be  an 
evil  ar.d  selfish  end,  all  external  ar.d  fair  moralties  will  melt  away,  and  tlie  man 
will  lose  his  coninion  sense  and  exhibit  his  insanities  of  opinion  and  will  and 
aiisueriiig  deed  on  the  surface.  Hut  if  that  end  be  good  and  innocent,  and  there 
be  hitmiliiy  vvith.n,  the  ounvard  disorders  and  evils  which  result  from  <ine's 
heredity  or  surroundings  will  finally  disappear.  —  Frorn  Rev.  John  Goddcird  s 
discmirse,  7"iy  '.  1-94- 

Putting  aside  the  question  as  to  whether  the  scheme  of  the  soul's  develo])- 
ment  after  death  was  or  was  not  revealed  to  Swedenborg,  whether  or  not  the 
title  of  seer  can  be  added  to  the  claims  of  this  learned  student  of  science,  all  this 
need  not  interfere  with  the  moral  influence  of  this  work,  although  the  wei};ht  of 
its  instruction  must  be  greatly  enforced  on  the  minds  of  those  who  believe  in  a 
later  inspiration  than  the  gospels. 

This  story  begins  where  others  end  ;  the  title  of  the  first  chapter,  "  I  Die," 
commands  attention  ;  the  process  of  the  soul's  diseiuhrahnent  is  certainly  in  har- 
mony with  what  we  sometimes  read  in  the  dim  eyes  of  friends  we  follow  to  the 
very  gate  of  life.  "  By  what  power  does  a  single  spark  hold  to  life  so  long  . 
this  lingering  of  the  divine  spark  of  life  in  a  body  growing  cold?  "  It  is  the 
mission  of  the  author  to  tear  from  Death  its  long-established  thoughts  of  horror, 
and  upon  its  entr.ince  into  a  ncv  ifo,  th_'  S'Uil  po-ses  es  such  a  power  of  atljosl- 
ment  that  no  shock  is  expeiienc-jd-  —  Boston  Transcript. 


ROBERTS  BROTHERS,  Pl'bushers,       - 

LOSTOX,    iM.V.SS 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


Dream  Life  p.^^  I^eal  l^ife. 

a  llittle  African  S>torr. 


By  olive    SCHREINER, 

AUTHOR  OF    "dreams"    AND   "THE   STORV   OF    AN   AFRICAN    FAKM. 
16mo.     Itnlf  cloth.     60  cents. 


These  are  veritable  poems  in  prose  that  Olive  Schrciner  has  brought 
togetlier.  With  her  tiic  theme  is  ever  the  martyrdom,  the  sclf-sacritice  and 
)!ieas]>irations  of  woman  ;  and  no  writer  has  expressed  these  qu.ilitics  with 
lieoper  profundity  of  pathos  or  with  keener  insight  into  the  motives  that 
g<jvern  the  elemental  impulses  of  the  human  heart.  To  re;id  the  three 
little  storii-s  in  this  Ixiok  is  to  touch  close  upon  the  mysteries  of  love  and 
fate  and  to  behold  the  workings  of  tragedies  that  are  acted  in  the  soul. 
r/ti  Ikaam. 

Three  sm.ill  gems  are  the  only  contents  of  this  literary  ca'^kct ;  and  yet 
they  reflect  so  clearly  the  blending  of  reality  and  ideality,  and  are  so  jier- 
fec;l>  po;i>h«i  with  artistic  handling,  that  the  reader  is  quite  content  with 
the  three.     It  is  a  Ixvik  to  be  read  and  enjoyed.  —  Public  Of-inion. 

There  is  a  peculiar  charm  alx)iit  all  of  these  stories  that  qviite  escapes 
the  cursory  reader.  It  is  as  evasive  as  the  fragrance  of  the  viulet,  and 
f;u.i!ly  difficult  to  analy/e.  The  philosophy  is  so  subtle,  the  jxjetry  so 
(!c  ie.ite,  that  tlie  fascination  grows  upon  one  and  defies  dc>cription.  With 
s!\!_-  th.it  is  well  ni:;h  classic  in  its  simplicity  Miss  Schreiner  excites  our 
eni'itiiins  and  gently  stimulates  our  imagination.  —  The  liuds;(t. 

\\\  the  sketches  reveal  originality  of  treatment,  but  the  first  one  is  a 
cinracteiistically  pathetic  reproduction  of  chill-life  tinder  excqition.il 
circuIn^tances,  that  will  bring  tears  to  m.any  eves.  —  Saturday  Ewntng 
Gauttc. 


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the  price  by  the  Publishers. 

ROIJr.RlS    i;R()Tin:K.S   IkxsroN- 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers*  Publications. 

THE  WHAT-TO-DO  CLUB. 

A   STOHY   FOR   GIRLa 

By  Helen  Campbell. 

l6mo.     Cloth.    Price  ti.^o, 
» 

"  •  The  What-to-do  Club '  is  an  unpretending  story.  It  introduces  na  te  a 
dozen  or  more  village  girls  of  varying  ranks.  One  has  had  superior  opportuni- 
ties ;  another  exceptional  training ;  two  or  three  have  been  '  away  to  school ; ' 
Borne  are  farmers'  daughters;  there  is  a  teacher,  two  «r  three  poor  self-support* 
ers,  —  in  fact,  about  such  an  assemblage  as  any  town  between  New  York  and 
Chicago  might  give  us.  But  while  there  is  a  large  enough  company  to  furnish  a 
delightful  coterie,  there  is  absolutely  no  social  life  among  them.  .  .  .  Town  and 
country  need  more  improving,  enthusiastic  work  to  redeem  them  from  barrennest 
and  indolence.  Our  girls  need  a  chance  to  do  independent  work,  to  study  prao 
tical  business,  to  fill  their  minds  with  other  thoughts  than  the  petty  doings  oi 
neighbors.  A  What-to-do  Club  is  one  step  toward  higher  village  hfe.  It  is  one 
•tep  toward  disinfecting  a  neighborhood  of  the  poisonous  gossip  which  floats  like 
a  pestilence  around  localities  which  ought  to  furnish  the  most  desirable  homes  in 
cur  country."  —  The  Chautauquan. 

"  'The  What-to-do  Club  '  is  a  delightful  story  for  girls,  especially  for  New 
England  girls,  by  Helen  Campbell.  The  heroine  of  the  story  is  Sybil  Waite,  tha 
beautiful,  resolute,  and  devoted  daughter  of  a  broken-down  but  highly  educated 
Vermont  lawyer.  The  story  shows  how  much  it  is  possible  for  a  well-trained  and 
determined  young  woman  to  accomplish  when  she  sets  out  to  earn  her  own  living, 
or  help  others.  Sybil  begins  with  odd  jobs  of  carpentering,  and  becomes  an  artist 
in  woodwork.  She  is  first  jeered  at,  then  admired,  respected,  and  finally  loved 
by  a  worthy  man.  The  book  closes  pleasantly  with  John  claiming  Sybil  as  his 
own.  The  labors  of  Sybil  and  her  friends  and  of  the  New  Jersey  '  Busy  Bodies,' 
which  are  said  to  be  actual  facts,  ought  to  encourage  many  young  women  to  mora 
successful  competition  in  the  battles  of  life."  —  Golden  Rule. 

"  In  the  form  of  a  story,  this  book  suggests  ways  in  which  young  women 
may  make  money  at  home,  with  practical  directions  for  so  doin^.  Stories  with  a 
mor.il  are  not  usually  interesting,  but  this  one  is  an  exception  to  the  rule.  Tha 
narrative  is  lively,  the  incidents  probable  and  amusing,  the  characters  well-drawn, 
ard  the  dialects  various  and  characteristic.  Mrs.  Campbell  is  a  natural  story- 
teller, and  has  the  gift  of  making  a  tale  interesting.  Even  the  recipes  for  pickles 
and  preserves,  evaporating  fruits,  raising  poultr)-,  and  keepin?  bees,  are  made 
poetic  and  invested  with  a  certain  ideal  glamour,  and  we  are  thrilled  and  absorbed 
by  an  array  of  figures  of  receipts  and  expenditures,  equally  with  the  changeftd 
incidents  of  flirtation,  courtship,  and  matrimony.  Fun  and  pathos,  sense  and 
sentiment,  are  mmgled  throughout,  and  the  combination  has  resulted  in  one  of 
the  brightest  stories  of  the  season."  —  IVcman'i  yournal. 


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ROBERTS  BROTHERS.  Boston. 


ROBERTS  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 
THE 

INTELLECTUAL    LIFR 

By   PHILIP   GILBERT   HAMERTON, 

AUTHOR  OF 

*'A  Painter's  Camp,"  "  Thoughtg  About  Art,"  "The  Un- 
known River,"  "  Chapters  on  Animal*." 

Squar*  I2me,  cloth,  gilt.     Pric*  $2.00. 

Frttm  tht  Ckrittian  Union- 

"  In  many  respects  thii  is  a  remarkable  book,  —  the  last  and  best  prodnctJoa 
of  a  linKularly  well  balanced  and  finely  cultured  mind.  No  man  whose  life  WM 
cot  lifted  above  the  anxieties  of  a  bread-winning  life  could  have  written  this  work; 
Miich  is  steeped  in  ttiat  sweetness  and  lif;ht,  the  virtues  of  which  Mr-  Arnold  to 
•kiquently  pre.tches-      Compared  with   Mr.    Hamerton's  former  writinrs,    '  Thj 

Intellectual    Life'    is   incomparably  his   best   production But   aoove   aU, 

And  speci.iUy  as  critics,  are  we  ch.irmed  with  the  larpe  imjiartiality  of  the  writer. 
Mr  Hamcrton  is  one  of  those  peculiarly  fortunate  men  who  h.ive  the  inclination 
and  means  to  live  an  ideal  life.  From  nis  youth  he  has  lived  in  an  atmospher* 
of  culture  and  light,  movinf;  with  clipped  wings  in  a  diarmed  circle  of  thought. 
PoBsexsint;  a  peculiarly  refined  and  delicate  nature,  a  p.issionate  love  of  beauty, 
and  purity  and  art  ;  and  having  the  means  to  gratify  his  tastc-s,  Mr.  H.^mertoo 
has  held  himself  al(x>f  from  the  commonplace  routine  of  life  ;  and  by  constant 
Mudy  of  books  and  nature  and  his  fellow  men,  has  so  purified  his  intellect  and 
tcmi>ered  his  iud);ment,  that  he  is  able  to  view  things  from  a  higher  platform  cvea 
than  more  able  men  whose  natures  have  been  soured,  cr.irapcd,  or  influenced  bj 
the  necessities  of  a  Laborious  existence.  Hence  the  rare  impartiality  of  his  deo- 
■ions,  the  Mlliolirity  of  his  views,  and  the  sym[)athy  with  which  he  can  discusa 
the  most  irreconcilable  doctrines.  To  read  Mr.  Hamerton's  wrilings  is  an  intel- 
lectual Injury.  They  are  not  boisterous'.y  strcjng,  or  exciting,  or  even  very  forci- 
ble ;  but  they  are  instinct  with  the  finest  feeling,  the  bro.»dest  sympathies,  and  a 
philosophic  calm  that  acts  like  an  opiate  on  the  unstrung  nerves  of  the  hard- 
wrought  literary  reader.  Calm,  equable,  and  bciutiful,  ''i'he  Intcllcctu.il  Life, 
when  contrasted  with  the  sensational  and  half  digested  da(>-trai>  that  forms  K 
Urge  a  [Kirtion  of  contem[)orar>'  literature,  reminds  one  of  the  old  picture  of  the 
Duius  moving  alwut,  calm  and  self-possessed,  through  the  fighting  and  blasphem- 
ing  crowils  th.it  thronged  the  bcleagircd  city." 

"This  b<Kjk  it  written  with  perfect  singleness  of  piirp<.se  to  help  other* 
tovxrds  an  intellettual  life,"  says  the  Botton  Daily  AJx-ertiser. 

•*  It  is  eminently  a  book  of  counsel  and  instruction,"  says  the  Boston  Pett, 
A  bo'ik,  which  it  seems  to  us  will  take  a  i>ennaneot  place  in  literatu:*, 
mej%  th«  Srw  York  Daily  Mail. 

Sold  by  all  Booksellers.      Mailed,  fostfaid,  by  the  Pub 
UeJkort* 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  Boston. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


PRISONERS  OF  POVERTY. 

WOMEN  WAGE-WORKERS :  THEIR  TRADES  AND 
THEIR  LIVES. 

By   HELEN    CAMPBELL, 

UTHOR    OF   "the    WHAT-TO-DO    CLUB,"    "  MRS.     HERNDON's    INCOME,"    "  MISS 

melinda's  opportunity,"  etc 
i6ino.    Cloth.    $i.oo.    Paper,  50  cents. 


The  author  writes  earnestly  and  warmly,  but  without  prejudice,  and  her  volume 
is  an  eloquent  plea  for  the  amelioration  of  the  evils  with  which  she  deals.  In  the 
present  importance  into  which  the  labor  question  generally  has  loonted,  this  vol- 
ume is  a  timely  and  valuable  contribution  to  its  literature,  and  merits  wide  read- 
ing and  careful  thought.  — Saiurday  Evening  Gazette. 

She  has  given  us  a  most  etTective  picture  of  the  condition  of  New  York  working- 
women,  because  she  has  brought  to  the  study  of  the  subject  not  only  great  care 
but  uncommon  aptitude.  She  has  made  a  close  personal  investigation,  extending 
apparently  over  a  long  time;  she  has  had  the  penetration  to  search  many  queer 
and  dark  corners  which  are  not  often  thought  of  by  similar  explorers ;  and  we 
susi)ect  that,  unlike  too  many  philanthroiiists,  she  has  the  faculty  of  winning  con- 
fidence and  extracting  the  truth.  She  is  sympathetic,  but  not  a  sentimentalist ; 
she  appreciates  exactness  in  facts  and  figures  ;  she  can  see  both  sides  of  a  ques- 
tion, and  she  has  abundant  common  sense.  — AVw  York  Tribune. 

Helen  Campbell's  "  Prisoners  of  Poverty"  is  a  striking  example  of  the  trite 
phrase  tliat  "  truth  is  stranger  than  fiction."  It  is  a  series  of  p  ctures  of  the  lives 
of  women  wage-workers  in  New  York,  based  on  the  minutest  personal  inquiry  ar.d 
observation.  No  work  of  fiction  has  ever  presented  more  startling  pictures,  and, 
indeed,  if  they  occurred  in  a  novel  would  at  once  be  stamped  as  a  figment  of  the 
brain.  .  .  .  Altogethe',  Mr<.  CanijibeH's  bonk  is  a  notable  contribution  to  the  labor 
Jiterature  of  the  day,  and  will  undoubtedly  enlist  sympathy  for  the  cause  of  the  c.p- 
pressed  working- women  whose  stoiiesdo  their  ovvn  pleading.  —  Springfield  Union. 

It  is  good  to  see  a  new  book  by  Helen  Campbell.  She  has  written  several 
for  ihe  cause  of  working-women,  and  now  comes  her  latest  and  best  work,  cat  ed 
"  Pnsiiners  of  Poverty,''  on  women  wage-workers  and  their  lives.  It  is  com]ii  cd 
fiom  a  series  of  |iapers  written  for  the  Sunday  edition  of  a  New  York  paper.  'Ihe 
autlior  is  well  qualified  to  write  on  these  topics,  having  jiersonally  investigated  the 
horrible  situation  of  a  vast  army  of  working-women  in  New  York,  —  a  reflection  of 
the  same  conditions  that  exist  in  all  large  cities. 

It  is  gad  tidings  to  hear  that  at  last  a  voice  is  raised  for  the  woman  side  of  these 
^reat  labor  questions  tliat  are  seething  be'ow  the  surface  calm  of  society.  And  it 
i<  well  that  one  so  eloquent  and  sympaihetic  as  Helen  Campbell  has  spoken  in  be- 
half of  the  victims  and  against  the  horrors,  the  injustices,  and  the  crimes  that  have 
forced  them  into  conditions  of  living  —  if  it  can  be  called  living  —  that  are  worse  than 
death.  It  is  painful  to  read  of  these  terrors  that  exist  so  near  our  doors,  but  none 
the  less  necessary,  for  no  person  of  mind  or  heart  can  thrust  this  knowledge  aside. 
It  is  the  first  step  towards  a  solution  of  the  labor  complications,  some  of  which 
have  assumed  foul  shapes  and  colossal  proportions,  through  ignorance,  weakness, 
and  wickedness.  —  Hartford  Times. 


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iirice,  by  the  picbliskers, 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS,    Boston 


Messrs.   Roberts   Brothers'  Publications. 

BITS    OF   TALK 

ABOUT  HOME   MATTERS, 
By  H.  H. 

Aui.ior  of  "  Verses,'"  and  "  Bits  of  Travel""    Squar» 
xZino.     Cloth,  red  edges.     Price,  $l.oo. 


•*A  Nkw  GospRL  FOR  Mothers.  —  W«  wish  that  eery  mother  In 
the  land  would  read  '  Bits  of  Talk  about  Home  Matters,  'oy  H.  H  ,  and 
that  they  would  read  it  thouj;htl'uUy.  'Ihe  l.itttr  suirgesilou  is,  however, 
wli'iily  utiiiece^sary  :  the  book  seizes  one's  llioushts  and  sympathies,  as 
only  startiinc  truths  presented  with  direct  earnestness  cin  do.  .  .  .  The 
adoption  of  her  sentiments  would  wholy  chanj;e  tlie  atmosphere  in  m.my 
a  house  to  what  it  ouj;ht  to  be,  and  bring  almost  constant  sunsh'ne  and 
bii's  where  now  too  ollcn  are  storm  and  misery."  —  Lawxnce  {A',t»iat) 

"  In  the  little  book  r-*"'cd  '  Hits  of  Talk,'  by  H.  H.,  Messrs.  Poberti 
Brothers  Jiave  given  to  .  .orld  an  uncommonly  useful  collection  of 
ess.iys,  —  u-cfu!  cert.\in!y  to  all  i>arents,  and  likely  to  do  pood  tn  ail  chil- 
dren. Other  ncople  have  doubtle-.s  held  as  correct  views  on  the  subjects 
treated  here,  tnonpli  few  have  ever  advanced  them  ;  and  none  that  we  are 
a.v.irc  have  made  them  so  attractive  as  they  are  made  by  H.  H  's  criip 
and  sparkling  style.  No  one  oiwning  the  book,  even  thr  u^li  without  rea- 
son fir  sj)ec;al  interest  in  its  tippit^,  cou'd.  alter  a  glimi^c  .it  its  pajjas, 
lay  It  down  unread  ;  and  its  brii;lit  and  witty  scintillations  will  fix  many  a 
precept  and  establish  many  a  fact  '  Bits  uf  Talk  '  is  a  book  that  oiif;lit 
to  have  a  place  of  honor  in  every  househo  d  ;  for  it  te.ichcs,  not  only  the 
true  dignity  cf  |i.irent  v.-e,  but  of  chiidhond.  As  we  rend  it.  we  l.uiph  and 
cry  with  the  author,  and  acknowieHxe  that,  since  the  child  is  lather  of 
tho  m  in.  in  beiti;;  the  cham;iion  of  childhood,  she  is  the  chamsiion  of  th« 
who'.e  corni;!!;  rate,  tlrrat  is  the  rod,  but  If.  H.  is  r.ot  its  prophet  1"  — 
M"!   Harriet  i'nscott  Sfofford,  in  Xru'turyf^^ri  flc-ralj. 


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Ushers, 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  Boston. 


SUTE  FORMAL  SIHUUL, 

Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 

DAILY    STRENGTH     FOR 
DAILY    NEEDS. 

Selected  by  the  Editor  of  "Quiet  Hours." 

i6mo.    Cloth,  Price  Ji.oo ;  white  cloth,  gilt,  !Pi.25. 
* 

"  Tliis  little  bcok  is  made  up  of  selections  from  Scripture,  and  verses 
ot  poetry,  and  prose  selections  fur  each  day  of  the  year.  We  turn  wi:h 
confidei.ce  to  any  selections  of  this  kind  which  Mrs.  Tileston  may  make. 
In  her  '  Quiet  Hours,'  '  Sunshine  for  the  Soul,'  '  The  Blessed  L.fc,'  ai.d 
other  works,  she  has  brought  togeth-jr  a  large  amount  of  rich  devotional 
material  in  a  poetic  form.  Her  present  book  does  not  disappoint  us. 
We  hail  with  satisfaction  every  contribution  to  devotional  literature 
which  shall  be  acceptable  to  liberal  Christians.  This  selection  is  made 
up  from  a  wide  range  of  authors,  and  there  is  an  equally  wide  range  of 
topics.  It  is  an  excellent  book  for  private  devotion  or  for  use  at  the 
family  altar."  —  Christian  Register. 

"  It  is  made  up  of  brief  selections  in  prose  and  verse,  with  accompa- 
nying texts  of  Scripture,  for  every  day  in  the  year,  arranged  by  the  editor 
of  Quiet  Hours,'  and  or  the  purpose  of  bringing  the  reader  to  perform 
tlie  duties  and  to  bear  the  burdens  of  each  day  with  cheerfulness  and 
courage.'  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  the  selection  is  admirably 
made,  and  that  the  names  one  finds  scattered  through  the  volume  suggest 
the  truest  spiritual  insight  and  aspiration.  It  is  a  book  to  have  always 
on  one's  table,  and  to  make  one's  daily  companion."  —  Christian  Union. 

"They  are  the  words  of  those  wise  and  he  ly  men,  who,  in  all  apes 
have  realized  the  full  beauty  of  spiritual  experience.  They  are  words  to 
comfort,  to  encourage,  to  strengthen,  and  to  uplift  into  faith  and  aspira- 
tion. It  is  pleasant  to  think  of  the  high  and  extended  moral  development 
that  were  possible,  if  such  a  book  were  generally  the  dally  companion  and 
counsellor  of  thinking  men  and  women  Every  day  of  the  year  has  itl 
appropriate  text  and  appropriate  thoughts,  all  helping  towards  the  best 
life  of  the  reader.  Such  a  volume  needs  no  appeal  to  gain  attention  lo 
it."  —  Sunday  Globe,  Boston. 


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receipt  of  price,  by  the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS,  Bosto* 


^        ^^'^OJITOJO^^      ''^dui\r:u^^^        ^'jumso]^^ 


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